#du
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We are spotted and blemished and
ring straked herds of milkable critters,
we are modifiable metaphors for
fountains of milk and honey, from
the other side, breathing in and out,
thinking jello seen through,
to the bubble of me, from the one
of you, in the discernible pixels one
adjusts to ignore as the knowledge
milk of conscious multi-tasking,
driving and paying attention
to a bubble popping book,
a Yucca… in jellotime thought form,
takes centuries for some to bloom,
children believe, because why
would the giant yuccas be
called century plants, if
not because they only bloom once
in three generations to be seen,
as a spikey life form familiar,
in the live and let live desert,
where we eat the snakes we ****
Which causes jellotime to glup up
a contrasting hueristic to guage
color critical shades of orininating
emotions, also known as answers
matching evidence accepted as its
self, as so, we see, it is, these words
connect at attention applied, a hook,
a will to have a go and making sense,
in timeless pastless points,
as art, around the time disease,
and misperceptions, such enforce,
hold that breathe
thought
as truth as manifest cruelty of mighty
blobs of solid right to stand still
and firm, a we form, from ancient
orders,
used to form first informers, thus
inventing us, after dancing to explain,
some where, in your learning control,
taking hold of yourself, see the shape
we may perceive, as we, the payers
of attention needed to twist these
threads, fine
spiderkites from the pines, common
at lattitudes about a third of the way
up the sphere's gravitational truth
compressing core, living idea, life
at planatary participant level,
poet, po. Poe, ever, more avsinthesis
m'dear, Frankly, whether Einstein
or Ben, said it, compounding,
interest in flim flam,
shaking it down, and pressing it
into stone, on which a you are forms
of us as others, redcoats fighting freedom
living legos, universal, and one use,
life is like that, and we the new ones,
we adapt to our techknowlogos, as such,
informing our selves of news and sighns,
signaling
slow down
you read to fast, this is doubt, the feature,
consciously functioning as qwerty guy, key
element of know how, indirectly hanging
by a thread in 'cient science, finding ling-
ering tastes, and effects from kissing,
stretching tongues intuitively knowing
this is what they mean,
or meant, that is, back when, it was said
that forty million frenchmen, could not
be wrong,
about how we gonna keep down
on the farm,
after they've tasted the happy place,
and tickled a childish fascination
with words
and a will, to make light of the dread,
said by many orders of left mind tyrants,
spiritual exercises in will worship,
worth of a warrior learning
there is no easy day,
popping
into my bubble. Easy entry, plop\
into the jellotime you had in mind,
when the whole idea shivered,
like a little rolling green hill,
seen from the clouds, of course,
we have Google's first score, point
one in the assisting intelligence
user's credo, be doers first,
of nothing evil, follow ons,
all your choice, the weapons used
to pull down strongholds,
mighty fortress forces repelling
efforts to fit one trick legos into
monstrosities as effective as
George's Dragon, or my puff tincture,
in the world of wonderful make believe,
tune in, drip. Drip. Slip into the ABC years,
percolater rythm
post recordible television, black and white,
during Disney-ification drills, preceded
by prelingual exposure to Fantasia,
reigning next oldest memory for which
valid links to now exist, occurred
at the White Rock Courts
during the years after 1948,
and a half, after Fantasia,
was in local theaters,
and GI Bills was not kicking enough,
for rent in Phoenix and driving,
back and forth up one side,
down the other, old mind
river she keep aggin' us on,
she's no devil, no siree,
that wombedman, she got papers on me.
and wise wizardry between jewels
as bright as earth seen from a distance,
as we all oughta know, by now,
as a hitchhiker's angel once said,
yes, sidereal, crossing the Mohave
at night, … pick the road
from Vegas, two lanes, double yellow lines,
easy for my cars lights to show, so I know,
I am on the right side of this thing,
this mound of telling stories found
looted of all but the ghosts
of its chances taken, on mob made rules.
Jun 6, 2024
Jun 6, 2024 at 9:15 PM UTC
The girl caught in the wire
Knows the right way and shows fiery pride
Instead, of taking the sunshine and more
Clasping the delicate rays with her parched palms
Leaving desolate prisoners inside
A dark day made only of steel cages
They will let in the light, those lying in the shadow
It's blazing outside, it is bright
Cold waters will calm, then turn the tide
Soon the cursed world will die
Women can see the sun when it swallows the earth
It is a ball of hope saving them from guns and guards
Their dreams will turn to ashes
Mothers with empty wombs love them just the same
To them their daughters haven't seen the rain
The sun grins from behind grey clouds and sighs
Soon, freedom will come within their reach, fast
And these daughters will get stuck deeper
The dream slips faster than sand in an hourglass
They deserve love from the depths of hell itself
Until one of them dies by the bullet or ****** disease
They don't belong to them, do they?
These pigs moan if their houses are made of gold
The white men want oil fields with them working
Oct 15, 2020
Oct 15, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
What is about the wind that comforts or troubles one
The constant howling as it bends and swirls through barriers
Trees waving their branches as it engulfs and swallows them up
Moving water past their natural breaks
Changing the landscape of deserts like a painter with his canvas
Sand dunes creating new and ever-shifting raw formations
And when it ends...
The silence is unexpected and so, so quiet
Brian Hill - 2019 # 326
Dec 28, 2019
Dec 28, 2019 at 9:00 AM UTC
His face blue
He raises it through
Can you find a utopian loop
Where people’s grace grew?
Her face is red
A misplaced puzzle zoo
There is no wall to climb
But into a wall of bricks
Will more people and more walls
Another sequel with another fall
She dreams a wall is ineffective.
Although he has built doors for a world at war.
The big brothers in, the heavier the doors
She knows how Tu Fu escaped from a bamboo wall
Iambic Tetrameter
Nov 29, 2019
Nov 29, 2019 at 3:51 AM UTC
Invincible for the empire roman;
That fury and vengeance was his language;
How Viriathus as vanquish around 200 years;
And lusitânia wasn't clears;
Port du graal was it's the place;
How was hidden the Holy Graal;
The secrets and wars was case;
And raise the Portugal;
The Kingdom for war and conquer ;
Was spoken by a glory Europe;
The spanish, french,english and Dutch ;
Bowed over the mighty Avis Master;
The glory and death of The Empire ;
Was not clear , the kindgom was gone;
The King D.Manuel II wasn't the bel;
But was bare wire;
Know Lusitania is lost;
So high is the cost?;
We never know the reason;
But Iberians gonna be the new season;
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 11:35 AM UTC
The river is so hard to see
Rushing by below
The fog is thick, so none will be
Affected when I go
The water seems so close, so far
Reaching out a hand
To hold me near when life is hard
A grave of shining sand
The bridge, the wind, are hard and cruel
Silent to my pain
The world that takes me for a fool
Here taunting me again
The leap, the rush, the silent death
Dancing through my mind
Slow sinking as I take a breath
The suicide is kind
But then she takes me by the arm
Looks into my eyes
We turn and walk back to the car
I do not want to die
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC
Wo immer du bist, was immer du tust
Wie dir es auch geht - ob schlecht oder gut
Sei dir bitte stets zu jeder Zeit treu,
dem offnen Gespräch zu keiner Zeit scheu
Schau öfter auf dich, hör andren gut zu
Genieß was du hast und komm mal zur Ruh
Die Zeit vergeht echt, schneller als man denkt
Lebensmomente - das wahre Geschenk
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 5:17 AM UTC
Dear reader, you know that we’re cursed
By our nature’s decadent thirst
At the hand of the devil
We’re drawn unto evil
But it’s boredom that’s really the worst!
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
aber meine gedanken kreisen um dich
24/7
tag und nacht
aber es macht mich verrückt
denn jeder erinnerung
entgleitet mir stunde für stunde
minute für minute
werden es weniger details
ich werde fast wahnsinnig
deine augen
dein lächeln
dein lachen
deine worte
alles in mir will sich genau erinneren
doch die erinnerung fließt hinfort
mit dem fluss der zeit
den ich gerne anhalten würde
nur für einen moment.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Jeg tror mennesket stræber efter ansvarsløshed. Vi bliver født uden ansvar; i den totale afmagt. Til sidst er vi ligeså skrøbelige og uselvstændige som i begyndelsen, og ind i mellem det og den, så prøver folk at påtage sig opgaver og roller for at tildele årene og dagene noget værdi. Hertil følger ansvar. Men frihed under ansvar er ikke frihed. Når man erkender, at man forsøgte at tillægge noget nogen værdi, så er man bundet af frigørelsen. Så ser man at uanset hvilken værdi, man har lyst til at give, kan man give, så værdien pludselig får værdi, og man frigøres fra frigørelsen. Det er frihed uden ansvar og selvstændighed og årets frugt.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
Hvor er jeg alene med mine øjeblikke
Som jeg sidder her fyldt op med dem
Det kradser af dig i min hals
Men jeg kan ikke hoste nu
Hvor er jeg ene om at kende de ord
Hoste dem op og gengive dem
I mit øre er der stille som dødt vand
Men halsen er forlængst stoppet til
Jeg kan ikke tale, ikke fortælle
Og til hvem skulle jeg det
Som om øjeblikkene stoppede da du forsvandt
Jeg smager på dine mørke øjne
Og holder om dine ord til de sidder fast på min hånd
Klistrer som din stemme på mine læber
Min mund er tør
For du har taget det hele
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 6:55 PM UTC