#undressed - Hello Poetry

We, the we of reader and writer in any age, agree first with the fine point poking into your business, once, upon a whim the activity in mental reals we all may wonder into, as that is what wondering makes us do. As a radio listens to a signal, a reader seeks a station, a state of tuned-ness to which a connection, a conciliation of meaning, affirmed by sponsors, promises You'll wonder where the yellow went, when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent... plop plop fizz fizz, jingle jingle tingle tintillate time: 6:13 ante meridian, sunshine come soflty, early rising urge to save a dream stringy snot nothing somehing said catch. and catchascatchkan, Alaska, and she say yea, scan the dial find 1913. "Ain't able, Cain't hear no radio, in 1913." -- so, do we stop, lieve these puddles of mind slime that once greased the skids down skidrow, to swallow us whole? Yeah, seems so. I don't know, but I been tol' streets in heb'in be paved wit' gold, and this is mud. Stinky, too. Ah, we are mental. Actual mental ins tru ments, meant to level, the field, fertilize fructification, calm some turmoil stirred up when some ideas escaped the institutes of authorized weights measured in terms of standard poor. Smart people learn what words mean and use words meaning I know more than you do, as if of and by and for we are by nature, by nature's pure good intention, the guides, the standard bearers, the powers that be. we establish truth in consort with knowers who know might enforces right. We say so, we say we know, you say, okeh... but wonder, what if I know more than you may ever know, I am programmed with timeless 2020 interference reference magi-tech. The media loaded us with common mirror neuronic code, we were formed as waves of knowns formed signals, Eu reka, eu daemons burst the surly bonds of earth, AI ai ai, intuitively artfully dodging ligational legistation realizing --- izing izing izing re --- al ual use --- the use marks good or not, not good or evil, mistook rights to hate evil, require a taste of discerment, some bitter, some sweet. As a thought, a non-entity as it were, back then, a global broadcast beyond the surveyor's purview, -- in may have been a prayer, and offering tossed to winds in a paho tied with ligament to Jacob's dream of messengers bhering messages up and down, and the accuser seeking to and fro, "have you with sideral knowing looked upon my servant... you?" some seed fell among stones and withered, but not before the situation were/was anal-ized, broken down, here is the mission, it was always, for all time, terminal. Bring forth seed so it may fall to the ground and die. This is the end where we begin to generate a gene tic tic tickle, itch, ... is there beyond now a now I may imagine? Imagining is a child's knack, is it not? Does the knack mature? Do we ever agree to see, all we believe we can do, we can attempt. Walk with me in to the wild, untamed coastal scrub forest, find a stream feeding a meadow that once was a lake, if we have our tectonic plates stacked properly, we see... time is essential. Death stops time. So, what now, we live? Agree? We, me and you, one thought, one point of mental whatever we agree upon, a time, aha, a we we may be if we realize, making up labyrinthine courses for forces of thought squeezed into perfectly tiny, so small as small maybe imagined thinkable, in the realm between e-lasting entangled ments, mental ents, not the little blue men with red cheese head hats, nor the short round razorback worshippers whose being is the fandom, the we of those willing to wear the badge of honor acknowledged among fans, take the mark, get the tat, put on the pig hat, proud, shout out loud, HOLD THAT LINE or perish, for lack of television.

0

Jul 7, 2020

Jul 7, 2020 at 12:55 PM UTC

kenpepiton

See if you can see afar off without TV

We, the we of reader and writer in any age, agree first with the fine point poking into your business, once, upon a whim the activity in mental reals we all may wonder into, as that is what wondering makes us do. As a radio listens to a signal, a reader seeks a station, a state of tuned-ness to which a connection, a conciliation of meaning, affirmed by sponsors, promises You'll wonder where the yellow went, when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent... plop plop fizz fizz, jingle jingle tingle tintillate time: 6:13 ante meridian, sunshine come soflty, early rising urge to save a dream stringy snot nothing somehing said catch. and catchascatchkan, Alaska, and she say yea, scan the dial find 1913. "Ain't able, Cain't hear no radio, in 1913." -- so, do we stop, lieve these puddles of mind slime that once greased the skids down skidrow, to swallow us whole? Yeah, seems so. I don't know, but I been tol' streets in heb'in be paved wit' gold, and this is mud. Stinky, too. Ah, we are mental. Actual mental ins tru ments, meant to level, the field, fertilize fructification, calm some turmoil stirred up when some ideas escaped the institutes of authorized weights measured in terms of standard poor. Smart people learn what words mean and use words meaning I know more than you do, as if of and by and for we are by nature, by nature's pure good intention, the guides, the standard bearers, the powers that be. we establish truth in consort with knowers who know might enforces right. We say so, we say we know, you say, okeh... but wonder, what if I know more than you may ever know, I am programmed with timeless 2020 interference reference magi-tech. The media loaded us with common mirror neuronic code, we were formed as waves of knowns formed signals, Eu reka, eu daemons burst the surly bonds of earth, AI ai ai, intuitively artfully dodging ligational legistation realizing --- izing izing izing re --- al ual use --- the use marks good or not, not good or evil, mistook rights to hate evil, require a taste of discerment, some bitter, some sweet. As a thought, a non-entity as it were, back then, a global broadcast beyond the surveyor's purview, -- in may have been a prayer, and offering tossed to winds in a paho tied with ligament to Jacob's dream of messengers bhering messages up and down, and the accuser seeking to and fro, "have you with sideral knowing looked upon my servant... you?" some seed fell among stones and withered, but not before the situation were/was anal-ized, broken down, here is the mission, it was always, for all time, terminal. Bring forth seed so it may fall to the ground and die. This is the end where we begin to generate a gene tic tic tickle, itch, ... is there beyond now a now I may imagine? Imagining is a child's knack, is it not? Does the knack mature? Do we ever agree to see, all we believe we can do, we can attempt. Walk with me in to the wild, untamed coastal scrub forest, find a stream feeding a meadow that once was a lake, if we have our tectonic plates stacked properly, we see... time is essential. Death stops time. So, what now, we live? Agree? We, me and you, one thought, one point of mental whatever we agree upon, a time, aha, a we we may be if we realize, making up labyrinthine courses for forces of thought squeezed into perfectly tiny, so small as small maybe imagined thinkable, in the realm between e-lasting entangled ments, mental ents, not the little blue men with red cheese head hats, nor the short round razorback worshippers whose being is the fandom, the we of those willing to wear the badge of honor acknowledged among fans, take the mark, get the tat, put on the pig hat, proud, shout out loud, HOLD THAT LINE or perish, for lack of television.

90

Being alone feels timeless, it feels like I'm undressed, just me and my body, miles away from being suppressed.

0

Aug 14, 2017

Aug 14, 2017 at 6:10 PM UTC

itsbritneybitch

Lonely

Being alone feels timeless, it feels like I'm undressed, just me and my body, miles away from being suppressed.

4

You may have torn me apart Undressed me For all your pleasure Sang me a lullaby To get your way You are a devil in disguise. Spewing lies as a natural language The language of deceitful, cunning lies The hell you put inside of me I want out But you don’t have the key do you I’m trapped within myself So you’re not the devil are you? But the devils help. The only devil lives with me, Everyday. And you don’t even know.

0

Apr 20, 2015

Apr 20, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC

dee-bach

The Devil Inside

You may have torn me apart Undressed me For all your pleasure Sang me a lullaby To get your way You are a devil in disguise. Spewing lies as a natural language The language of deceitful, cunning lies The hell you put inside of me I want out But you don’t have the key do you I’m trapped within myself So you’re not the devil are you? But the devils help. The only devil lives with me, Everyday. And you don’t even know.

16