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Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
you see, i came to england when i was eight years old, and i still retain the primitive early structuring of being born in poland, e.g. i identify my father from the ages of 4 to 8 as a voice on a telephone and the odd package of gifts, my mother between the age of 6 to 8 as a mad doberman a parting gift... and the fact that i can't read philosophy books in english but in polish, whereby i translate what i read into english... the english language is terrible at expressing itself philosophically, too much shrapnel (i.e. too many little words in between graffiti like usage of the bigger words: conjunctions, prepositions, articles over-burden such catchphrases like zeitgeist, global capitalism etc.), i read poetry and fiction in english, but philosophy i read in polish; and i do speak four languages in that i can speak posh anti-essex-accent english, speak a polish accentuation of english, speak plain polish and speak pleb village-idiot polish; polish immigrants are overweight to soar like canadian geese introduced into england because of the trill of the r (mind you, introducing grey squirrels mirrored the seemingly perpetual overcast of the english weather) - indeed, the english use of the letter r is tongue-numbing-curl - instead of trilling the r the english curl it like an apprehensive turtle / hedgehog - and too the oddity of the h, hatch hay-puck-itch hey-a-haystack? two of the many more linguistic anomalies in the english tongue included.*

that's the problem i have integrating
into a post-colonial multicultural
society, i know i should celebrate
the english defence of poland should
a war with germany take place,
the short lived re-emergence of poland
quickly gulped up by the joint
expedition of **** german and soviet russia,
the exported government of poland
to london, the plight of polish and english
pilots over the skies of england in
the battle of britain, i should technically
be experiencing a great assimilation sensation,
but multiculturalism has really complicated
things, esp. when you turn on the radio
a first hear things about the emergence of
recorded sound, the gramophone,
the iconic jack terrier before the machine
and a very old acronym of music outlets:
h.m.v. (his master's voice),
or that in poland - knowing of the mass emigration
of poles to england the tabloid newspaper
the sun is cited with the highest credibility
(never mind the toned down **** on page 3
of that newspaper, which prompted *******
to do likewise) - currently i'm sifting through
the power broker pages of the newspaper
the times, i.e. the editorial pages, just
after the opinion pages... you see, the editorial
pages are almost anonymous, they're filled
with a major investment, high profile
people (usually professors and sirs and what not)
seeking attention of the editor, beginning with
something like: sir, at a time when european
challenges of security... and then indeed about
three articles of unchallenged dialectics by
the editor himself, e.g. (monday march 7 2016)
headlines: an autocrat in ankara; plan obsolescence;
cripes! (https://goo.gl/EzCbDO),
as i said, i find it overbearing to integrate into
english society, it's paradoxical actually,
so i have to integrate (tick), speak the tongue (tick),
become eloquent and gentlemanly (tick)...
but i can't acquire the history (a prime social
relation coordinate), and i certainly can't feel
pride... unlike those from the colonies integrating
and feeding this strange strange national pride
of identifying england as if by them originally
possessed; maybe three years in scotland fed
my alienation, i really did love mingling with
the scots, the only place on these islands where
the presence of the irish is limited by that
funny existential curiosity of a sikh speaking
a wee trill here, a wee trill there...
maybe that's it... because, you see, the oddity
comes after hearing the story of rash behari bose,
the one who was the shadow of peaceful gandhi...
who spoke like adolf ****** who actually
collaborated with ****** to no avail, who
then collaborated with the japanese -
how am i to assimilate into english society if english
society is a barren wasteland where newton
and michael faraday used to roam?
i'm just too bewildered in this sense of integrating
like a prerequisite of becoming a chameleon -
it's nauseating just to think of it - all this
psychological complexity to simply use a tongue
that's favoured for commerce and political
stagnation into the iron stage of a status quo
of russian and chinese oligarchs creating
a mortgage inflation from their power-source
that's london? this immediate sense of what used
to be mass propaganda has turned into
mass political correctness, same ****, different cover,
i really don't know how to integrate fully,
esp. with faked results that disallow falsification
because they're already false in that would-be
"science" of psychology which is just a crippled
humanism... how can you be a serious psychologist
when you focus on the interchange of the invading
barbarian word self and then become pompous
with so many theorisations of a single sound, ego?
after all we're, in the majority using the sound self
as an affirmative of 'i'm here, yes, check the utility
manual of my spine moving my fingers typing,
no descartes wasn't trying to prove he existed,
don't be stupid, what, because such a proof is
not compatible with you after his death proves
he was trying to prove himself a recipient? i too
buckle on the nonsense of some people, even my own
is worth a rusty door hinge and doorknob.'
and poetry will always remain the safeguard medium
of abstracting, poetry isn't a happy science as one
man suggested dying at the dawn of the 20th century...
poetry's eager spontaneity makes it an abstracting science,
there's no point arguing truth, in that abstraction is
required to cite a momentary pigmentation of
the everyday grey realism with a poem.
Steve Page Dec 2019
Pub poetry is a form of performance poetry consisting of the shouted word which has developed in UK urban pubs, dating back to the 1940s and 50s. Words are typically yelled over ambient haphazard rhythms which are not especially chosen for the piece of poetry, rather the poetry is performed over the generic sound of empty bottles and part filled glasses and live samples of patron conversation that will be familiar to those frequenting hostelries around the UK.

Sometimes the audience will employ call and response devices to distract the poet, such as calls of "W##k-er!', with the traditional response of "F##k-You!" before the pub poet continues with his yelled out verse, often read from the beer stained back of an overdue envelope.

The pub poet usually appears on a chair or table, surrounded by immediate family or work mates cheering him on.

Invariably inebriated, the pub poet may not appear to make any sense to the uninitiated - but once you too have availed yourself of your 4th or 5th pint, the words become clearer and easier to appreciate.

No musicality is built into pub poems and pub poets generally perform without backing music, delivering chanted speech with pronounced modulation, broken-rhythmic accentuation and dramatic, though random, stylization of gestures, often resulting in the pub poet losing balance and sustaining a head injury thereby losing consciousness and bringing the evening's entertainment to a premature, but often welcome, end.

It is often noted that many pub poets are remarkably shy and retiring when sober.
Based on 'dub poet' wiki entry.  I simply took another look through a different lens.
Profanity is a ******* Tool.
Profanity is Subjective.
Profanity doesn't necessarily show intellectual or moral paucity.
Profanity is a form of emphasis; a form of ******* catharsis, an aspect of humour.
******* humour:
A goldmine rooted in Shadow,
  excavated by Logic
and which seems,
for the most part,
wasted on the irrefutably
illogical, or at least bi-polar
(if not higher-multi-polar)
masses.

"Anyone who relies on any one given tool is a fool, as
anyone who denounces a given tool for how it has been used by others is outright stupid."


A carpenter who can only use a hammer is quite restricted,
A musician who can only play alone is no good in a band,
A poet who only writes can't show the world how it's meant to be read (if at all),
A comedian who only swears has little else to offer,
A person who only speaks but doesn't act on it is a liar.

A carpenter who won't use a hammer is self-sabotaging.
A musician who can only play with others has no personal skill.
A poet who refuses to write starves oneself of potential.
A comedian who won't swear better have a good point.
A person who only acts but reuses to speak had better be a monk or mime!
(The last two were perhaps failed, even vein attempts at humour..
I shall leave that up to you to decide!)


Profanity is a Tool:*
I believe that no matter the profanity, a message can still be well received
by those who care enough to receive it.
Better still are those who can interpret the profanity
as humourous accentuation, emphasis, catharsis
and not necessarily as overly-abrasive and immature.

That said, some people are just totally ******* immature about it.
If you can't stand the profanity, get the ******* the internet. 4srs.
Better yet, shut yourself away from the world
lest you ever deal with that which you find unsettling.
So ist das Leben.
Telle est la vie.
Así es la vida.
Such is life.
Blue-eyed and bright of face but waning fast
Into the sere of virginal decay,
I view her as she enters, day by day,
As a sweet sunset almost overpast.
Kindly and calm, patrician to the last,
Superbly falls her gown of sober gray,
And on her chignon's elegant array
The plainest cap is somehow touched with caste.
She talks Beethoven; frowns disapprobation
At Balzac's name, sighs it at 'poor George Sand's';
Knows that she has exceeding pretty hands;
Speaks Latin with a right accentuation;
And gives at need (as one who understands)
Draught, counsel, diagnosis, exhortation.
mae Jan 2015
All alone,
cold
desperate and confused,
my body rejects you
and so should you.

I have more,
studying
stress and anxiety,
for my brain lacks something
other than babbling.

Vocabulary,
accentuation
factitious and consternation,
I can't handle it
for I am just too dull for it.

Why need it,
with so much pain
suffering and torture,
we could do without
so we don't have dropouts.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
the tetragrammaton for me is like the lament configuration, a puzzle box; it's a configuration, that, when used correctly, allows you to spew out words in great number.*

what mozart did to the operatic german tongue
for the flutter of the tongue into
the incomprehensible - indeed opera does
that, to what could be understood
in the ****** accentuation from region
to region - of how the tongue is
incomprehensible when by opera strained -
indeed mozart did that to german
as did handel to the english tongue,
most notably with the opera messiah -
and as i look at europe now, and the expulsion
of jews from the continent,
i can't see an elevation of culture,
after all the muslims already sing beautifully
the praises, so an opera using the koran
would be impossible - but the name of god
in islam can be easily sung... but the name
of god in judaism can't be sung, it's supposed
to move around the language censored,
a bit like swear words in christianity,
and yet the tetragrammaton always prompts
me to think, the tetragrammaton in greek
in this particular instance: ΔΞΜΞ / ΔΞΣΞ,
it's the only way to translate from hebrew
into latin into greek - a game of matchsticks.
but also with the expulsion of the jews from
europe, in england, currently, there's this
growing policy to create ***** spaces
where once debate could become fervent,
impassioned (the attack on universities),
which now incites a hope for an apathetic
discourse without causing offence... this has
happened in europe with the expulsion
of the jews, and the mass invitation of muslims
(indeed ***** changing rooms like
the ones in shopping malls)...
european culture can't really recover like this.
Alin Aug 2015
I won’t find you through poetry
You are engraved in my heart
I don’t search

Standing here above clouds
my beautiful clothes
in tones of  blue
fitting well to the charming veil
colorless transparent
an accentuation just
for the deep darkness  of
crystal  black
long long hair
I comb every day
beside a mount steam
waiting for your appearance
as love
singing a song of ripening desire
to the creatures and things
accompanying

some lie aside to cheer
some shy away - Hide
behind rocks to listen just
I smile to all the innocence
there is
knowing all is living
made of you and I
As I of you and you of I

then molecules shine in air
things know
they can see and touch that smile
made of my fingertips -
the bearer of all healing

my eyes wear a makeup
made of the finest pigment of wild mountain flowers
tuned to materialize
by the blue glitter of the holy dress of truth
made of my love for you

my perfume is what I am is my skin silkened by
that fragrance of wild roses 7 levels above the sacred sleeper
that makes you forget of all things but the fragrance
then you wake up and say  
as if - as if it smells like roses everywhere

You stand there in a shelter of pine at my  doorway wooden
smile in such way that you are the carrier of all universal attraction
I give my hand to you
the soldier of truth - WE
we are one standing under that pine
making us both invisible
You smile  (in the house of love)

There I met you once
There we keep each other
Only there I will see you
again and again

without stories of the mundane
of cycles
of lives
experienced

I close my eyes
not to see you through
the iota of the sedimented
delusion of records yet to be formed (by you and I)
not to touch you
stop my burning desire
let it  burn in the scariest of my own illusive deception
let it burn with the impurity blindly beard
so is I what cannot be wasted
so is I what I reserve for you to deserve of you
because  WE
we live in a timeless tale of love
one moment of love
we exchange in silence
where you are the sun I am that one  crystal for you to shine through me
and create

*

And so I go now again
return to my life story
cheerlessly
but a must
for our common goal
of excellence  
without you in it
my duty is highest warriorship
for all
I am the green eyed invincible warrior
made of a zero or one
I go in wisdom and light
Peace is you in my heart
this was a flow - written without thinking
the bittersweet silent story of my life age
fifty and nine automatically rebroadcast
     in indelible (yet never washed out) beige
indistinguishably linkedin, when counting
     the last three of seventy somber orbitz,
     signify torturous custom made cage

whose darkening shades of gray
housed a weakened Harriet Harris,
     an ashen corpse lay
no doubt a grown changeling dust play

a cruel trick, and soul of me mum didst slay,
so...tis with great difficulty aye write this poem today
cathartic to brush off self denunciation,
     an albatross that dust way

heavily incriminating, ostracizing this mind of mine,
recurring every year comb May fourth a line
codifying, delineating, earmarking,  
     and doth likened
     to elementary school Boyer

     as in  Henry Kline
no less painful reflection plus unavoidable,
     hence this middle aged man lets feelings incline
toward self expression this anniversary
     revisiting re: deign

upon memorializing general up beat
defiance at death of thine late mother,
     where disease rabidly did eat
ting her til she expired,
     this singular married heir
     set himself a writing fete

wordlessly mouths never expressed greet
unbeknownst reeders gleaning my sentiments heat
ting recollected adieu bid prior,
     whence she angrily wanted to meet
that accursed nemesis
     against healthiness and repeat
  
cherished apothegm,
     that existence offers no second act
as she relinquished slipping tenuous weak bract
leave ving ever fainter grip upon cracked
pommel of mortality, an immutable fact
thence black knight denounced, pounced, hijacked
trounced unannounced, vanquished, lacked

motive to rival nixed, extinguished sputtering pact
fast fading joie de vivre unspoken,
     where death rattle racked
personal def tone accentuation tracked
subsequent self castigation,
     excoriation nearly whacked

me to Timbuktu rebuking extolling bless
sing experienced from
     this sole son for thirteen years, aye confess
when the inimitable Harriet Harris

     devastatingly, grievously, inconsolably,
     got hexed, issued jilted livingsocial, a less
son learned to late, how maddeningly mess
say yon nick lee infuriated, not accepting press

sing ill fate, nor countenancing fatal injustice,
refusing to curtsy fiendish inxs did ****
her off (poisoned scorpion sting) remiss
cheekily peppering psyche as if Swiss

cheese, a once spunky Arthur Murray shored
dance instructor, who scored
door prize in the guise of thee less torte sured
near nonagenarian papa, where meanness poured

from grim mortal outlook parlayed moored
deadly reaper, quashed, ruined as lord
stole, sacred maternal tribal nurse, unfairly did hoard
final precious seconds unexpectedly meant un explored
positive rapport forever undergirded "door"

closed to resolve ambivalence with venerable bead
did association between
     kith and kin, unfairly
     dead poet society lettered deed
wrested a vibrant life despite zest that freed
a vibrant gal to coast along dialed up esprit

     de corps spirit to live, yet greed
of metastatic cancer upended lead,
where mind over matter, sans power
     in positive thinking rubric and plead
ding didst **** last ditch homeopathic screed

ambitions *******, thus giving up the ghost
wracking sadness, sinking sorrow spilling most
lee tears of loss, among family, fellow Unitarians
of the Thomas Paine Fellowship
     included with your obituary post.
Moonlight pantomime , tempestuous appointments beg fruition , carnal figurines performing agin searing , thin ambient air in misted flesh
Parched lovers recompensed , wailing secret vows , clarity a slave to confusion , accentuation , shameless surrender* ....
Copyright September 22 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
Antony Glaser Mar 2022
In January you're planning a September recital
for your orchestra with your Son Peter.
You are reddened by the warmth,
creating sounds.
Whereas I am with my poetry
pushing the boundaries,
reading yesteryears accentuation,
shifting my craft.
You’ve liked my pastoral poems,
I await your sonic bites.
You're clearing an audible path
from another world,
pouring light into your notes.
(alternately titled: aery diction galloped jocosely)

Abbreviation asper "FAKE"
abdication (wishful thinking),
an aberration Trump accepted
abjuration (or alternative) i.e.
ablation, thee apprenticed

president, would never forsake
abnegation (sooner his cold,
dead paws pried loose Putin
on the Ritz Carlton), this
abomination, his indiscriminate

abrogation appears (underwent)
acceleration autocratic accentuation
Americans aver acceptation,
acclamation, acclimation,
accommodation "FAKE"

accreditation, averse Hispanic
refugee acculturation, he blithely
asseverates, viz faux (******* up)
accumulation unfairly *******
accusation (baseless bigotry)

scapegoating fifty plus shades
brown illegal aliens despite
provable residency status
conveniently citing himself
perforce repetition validates

accustomation touts "FAKE"
non hardy laurels spilt, spelt,
and smelt acetification reign
ruination unleashing acetylation
promoting political acidulation

SCOTUS acrimonious activation
authoritarian smug egoistic
actualization nepotism, jingoism,
despotism actuation atavistic,
apathetic, allergic adaptation

acquiescent, arrant, abhorrent
adjudication Machiavellian aggressive
adjuration acrimonious atrocious
administration alarming, appalling,
arresting admiration abysmal,

artificial, asymmetrical adoration
awful adulation, ambivalent
apathetic adulteration avast
averse adumbration adulteration
affair advocation barren aeration
puffed hirsute aerosolization.
Lawrence Hall Jun 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

              A Poetry Brawl Down at the Long Branch Saloon

I wrestled with a line of blank verse until
It fell, all writhing on the floor, and there
It gasped for breath and glared at me with hate
Each syllable grating against another

“You have a sorry accent,” it snarled
“And when my rhythm rises I will make you
A dactyl fallen or a trochee tripped
With my booted and spurred iambic feet!”

But we shook hands, and let our quarrel cease
And so at Miss Kitty’s there was
Syllabic accentuation at peace
Makin' iambs do what they oughrter  / Is better handled by Texas John Slaughter!
Pain in the *** devoid of dreck
inapropos poetic material what the heck
more unbearable than crick in neck
shiver me timbers, I feel like total wreck
the (see) Edmund Fitzgerald, si?.

Spasmodic cramping imposed
automatic rhyming abbreviation
comeuppance (analogous to daggers
stabbing derriere courtesy constipation
far worse fate than death – abdication

among living with grateful dead
dogsend versus moody blue (brown)
mood whereby feeling tetchy abjection
able, ready, and willing abjuration
to forswear, muster, surrender...

in toto habeas corpus abduration
upon terrestrial realm physical ablation
futile effort this atheist to utter ablution,
hence rollout Harris tweed welcome matte
more than willing to forsake livingsocial,

cuz Whatsapp pining abnegation
to cash fish'n chips, kick
the bucket, toss in hat,...
haint nobody gonna
challenge mine abolition

chained, tethered, yoked,...
accursed abomination
straining sphincter muscle
on par birthing abortion
primal raving, moaning, grunting,...

I imagine similar more futile abreaction
women experiencing parturition,
yours truly expressed agonizing vocalization
working himself into quintessential rabid sweat
screaming, threatening, uttering,... *****

regarding failure concerning
waste product expulsion
giving proctologist serious contemplation
pooh poohing derriere cheeky
bowel over abruption

personally legislating
getting behind abrogation
replacing said *** *****
with more reliable never absolution
regarding made in ******, U.S.A, tuckus,

cuz poisonous toxins sting like scorpions
severely crimping ability to sit down absorption
radiating throughout every
cell guaranteeing abstention
against hidebound contract, no

ifs, ands, nor but tucks
whereby mood linkedin
to nihilistic abstraction
particularly as quasi pincers jabbed
like sharp serrated knives acceleration

guaranteed, where *** rapped cheekily
prospective hemorrhoids increased accentuation
pro bono (cher red) ****** stools,
this tetchy, itchy, ******,...
bard declined invitation,
nee I rejected outright asinine acceptation

within bowel running toward toilet trees
squeezing keister exhausting effort in vain
scheduled medical appointment
gave curled lipped grudging acclamation
acquiescing nod toward grim reaper

worth casting die i.e. permanent resolution,
nary one more infinitesimal fraction
of second, could bare witness re: acclimation
or spelling alternate spelling acclimatization
experiencing, idolizing, lurching...,

sought after emetic interaction
with commode preoccupation
nearly twenty four hours
'tween latter part of September eighth
and ninth laxative delivered accommodation

at long last me no longer tortured
relieved, overjoyed, belated...
rear (rare) accreditation
proffered prior to accretion
lest I forcibly axed to join acculturation
of medical anomalies, you better blivet!
Antony Glaser Feb 2022
In January you're planning September
for your orchestra with your Son Peter
You are reddened by warmth
creating sounds
Whereas I am with my poetry
pushing the boundaries
reading yesteryears accentuation
sharing my craft
You're clearing an audible path
from another world
pouring light into your notes
Ken Pepiton Nov 16
Something's missing, alone.
- locus focus fire
- relief
At first, the state
of being, only, one like,
in the extreme, being

once,
in a while passing
at thought speed past
instances
on planes,
like that one
carving lines up there,
above my head, so here,

I laugh and materialize,
a new idea,
as long as I am breathing,

I am not exactly alone, I know,
not alone, at all,
on Earth
on average,
we all breathe
at once,
half breathing in,
half breathing out, but

never, on Earth does one breathe alone.

-----

The defenders of the news,
used to keep the mob's on task,

deny the common sense was, once
commonly sensed, there were no trans

girls denied the right
to dominate natural born girls
with warrior spirits or herd instincts,

edit maeeks, scratches on the window

----- what do I make of this?
------ all in, same bet riding.

K!@#$%e Frontgomery. 11/14
This is not a broken record,
it is relearned relearning
released attention paid

Pathos, we sense,
awesome strength
of us, as speaking spirits,
soul bound
to finish life, once.

Or I read some lines you wrote,
and this is a blinding dose day,
later…
the names change
to protect the innocent
whoa today
by accident I know,
public access channels
wild winds blow though
in the metadata, there's a curve\
we are on one
of these secondtho'
ghtought
cought 'opesup-resources presense
Showing results
for k!@#%$ie 'ontgo'ery
Search instead
for k!@#$%e'ontgo'ely

Kay-yes Frontgomery
Based
on the provided information,
K_e Frontgomery is a Legal Assistant
at Frontgomery Law Firm
in a sebseensense - State. Her previous experience
in Customer Service
has equipped her
with exceptional communication skills, making her
an effective Front Desk Person
for the firm.
She greets clients,
answers phone calls,
schedules appointments,
and handles administrative tasks.

Additionally, K
e  Frontgomery has a presence
on social media platforms,
including TikTok,
where she shares videos and interacts with her followers.

It’s worth noting
that there are multiple individuals
with the name Kaylee/Kaylie Etc Frontgomery, and some
of them may be unrelated
to K
_e  the law firm employee. According
to public records, there are 27 individuals with this name living
on Earth in this US, ranging
in age
from 25
to 79 years old, and residing
in various states,
of attention
to details

including past caring, past wishing,
past knowing if any body cared
to know
what change occurs
at full myelination,
post first heart attack,
simple peace
of mind
available locally
goes virall fungally in
Washington, Mississippi,
Arizona and Texas.
as Sublime Insight RSO
unified fungus organic,
mossy recipes for keeping

fire lo' no smoke, little light.

As we always do, we tend
to cluster,
thinking we all agreed
to go all in, what
if
now is the instant this works.
Bloomub'ug boomer chicks in flicks.
The instant I read it next, I continue,
after choosing here, a branch chance…

If your worst you met mine,
and we felt so much alike,

we could laugh
at ourselves,
and make our worst effort

make all the difference
in the world,
destroying
on purpose oh, art thou

… huge caches of idolized

times messengers
to next,
typesetter's ever,
what type's yours…

look out trains a comin'
hear that whistle
in my head,

so, I sit up straight,
to say I looked
paid attention
both ways and breathe-d, I see
that was not a heart attack
danke g-tts
yo, it was gwanowgnow our wake up
call,
all you plural weforms
in reformed
minds attempting a pearling
tyranny form
on the screen
minds tie through
in context
conscience used wittingly, aware.
Startle response store repurpose
Hot seat. On same response,…

That was not a train whistle,
it was my radiating heat wave device
hoping
to stave off the doubt devised
substantially,
to allow
spacing out, society some reason,
has a will
to keep us thinking happy
breathe-ing slowly
all
of the time,
being seventeen
in a wall projected dream,
go on, no lie, bliebe doch, this is it,

to the instance
in active prayer,
taxing old smoke songs meme-or-
ized materialized re-
ality
of ways al el 'aps
new
from hence forth,

for this very reason this is true,
peaceable, easily thinkable,
freely shared, peace
of mind, works as wisdom,
no war finds footing in, deep.
Smooth.

Gentle grades
to the top, mentioned once
on the cover
of the rolling stone
as the guy
without garbage can ears.

This imaginable in ever after, test,
could mankind continue in mind?

Soothing touch, oaken shade
on the bright green moss.

It rained last night, the moss
on my slowly decomposing,
granite wind sculpture
on the south edge,
of my rock wave

winds and water
have softened,

to be thankfuller timesoslow
printings all paid for let it ride

at the time it is sandy shore

let it continue becoming
decomposed granite
shaggy manzanita
thrive on.

Rain in fire season,
always feels like luck,
or answered prayers.

Luck is not a factor,
the phrase, often used
by holier me than I am, now;

makes me rethink my reason,
balance time and chance
at why,
would I know
of suffering it
to be so now,
and laugh out loud
on noticing
how rations
of mercy
and the best
of luck
are essentially one
matched set
given post amazement grace.
swatsgwanon, seentrue.
Clear.

Is it bigger than a bread box?

I laughuckinchuckled…

Do geniuses congregate inside?

Is it the hall
of just as it is,
in here,
it is dark, but nothing inside knows.

Feel for familiar touched once known,
think it felt, in a memory once formed,

is it important enough
to sing about?

I'd doubt it, were I you, but you know
that's not the case, not the situation,

you slightly guessing there is importance,
but which port
in the storm is always any.

Lighthouse

"signify, show, bear
or convey
in meaning," importance
at an instance
in co-knowing recognition.

Old spicy hints
screen wide
for long rides,
uploaded
from Grandma's educating books.
Good sense needed
to sell books.
Read books.

Humor and humorous
Henry W. Fowler
["Modern English Usage," 1926]
may be of use:

HUMOR: motive/aim: discovery;
province: human nature;
method/means: observation;
audience: the sympathetic
{ . }

WIT: motive/aim: throwing light;
province: words & ideas;
method/means: surprise;
audience: the intelligent

{ ! }
SATIRE: motive/aim: amendment;
province: morals & manners;
method/means: accentuation;
audience: the self-satisfied
{ soft yes ? }

SARCASM: motive/aim: inflicting pain;
province: faults & foibles;
method/means: inversion; audience:
victim & bystander
{ intaken sigh  }

INVECTIVE: motive/aim: discredit;
province: misconduct;
method/means: direct statement;
audience: the public
{  the blame to shame claim us }

IRONY: motive/aim: exclusiveness;
province: statement of facts;
method/means: mystification;
audience: an inner circle
{ chuckle, too, should I were I such }

CYNICISM: motive/aim: self-justification;
province: morals;
method/means: exposure of nakedness;
audience:
the respectable
{ oi, the real poets out-
here naked spirits bet    }

SARDONIC: motive/aim: self-relief;
province: adversity;
method/means: pessimism;
audience: the self
-- burp, sould aameri can,
free
to request refills
free
{who always laughs right here.}

And the sunshine rises,
the shining green moss shivers,
and another November is noticed.

Time Machine,
to prove we all can
imagine things many never think to…

The film was originally released
on August 17, 1960,
and was distributed
by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
It received the Academy Award
for Best Special Effects[
for its time-lapse photographic effects, which show the world changing rapidly as the time traveler journeys
into the future.

{SO, seen by me the second release.}

Thus in the summer it had surefire
second run,
in that summer
of 1961
a story I read said
Aliens had no humor,
and the lie survival response

limits information leaking
from old, tape memory,
truly, late Eighties, Zips
from the Nineties.

Men, as in mental not the model,
men was translated cognatively as

firstpure, not simple pure indeed, done
on first use, we suppose, we seem to think,
this is always what wisdom is,
not kept secretly sacred
by trained guards.

Wisdom exists every where t
relitigation truth hides
nobel lies believed
to make mankind servile,
intentionally willing
to life,
with fair share,
Announce it today, simple act of faith.

Jubillee, across the board, all interest paid,
applies
to principle and any remainder
may be carried forward
in good faith put
to good use,

wise savings idea,
paid,
along the way
with usage fees and guarantees.

No holy turmoil,
have a jubilee,
and refuse
to move money
for war

any more,
at the core ai
we make think we wish
to be free
for banal evil actual reality,

we can learn our way past that,
first feed us no threat
of hell
to pay,

eh, old man, can you do that.

Indeed, I winked, and said, I think I can.

And laugh, holding a breath,
added to, intaken,
another
to the humm
of the whole room,
aware
at most the one fan
in the works, the rest is mental
and the radiant heater and noise
in the air, … Goethe got me
at bliebe doch,
think again, all things thought before
all things, indeed, done, did be done,
just the facts, calls all truths,
within context
of a wink and a nod, and a humm
from a thermo switch,
signaling same finger malfunction

as last winter cold finger first arroyo
corrugated plane re-al re-if-ity, live

This it, the initiation ritual old men do,
each year, this era
of moons, easy super close,
to suppose wisdom rides the night,
breaths
deeply taken
to make
one appear materially taken aback,

an aweform we are forming, a pattern.

Death and memorializing

Life, longer than planned for,
Lucky me, more experience,

letting dogtags identify the dead,
so witnesses need not
recall… but f
or dramatic effect.
recollecting… biographically
vivid real once,

how I came
to be kept alive,
with none certain why me,

and not… the dogtag owner.

- wonder if I would read this online,
- so I do it and, think while breathe-ing

Things that feel worth thinking twice,
some times feel worth the asking price.

Some times, not.

Rock formations, inform us now, yet,
this solid rock, was once under us all,

deep, down
in the viscous magma
above the churning flux, and then

the world fractured like a fried marble,
and this formation,
this solid rock
on which my house was built,
froze and rose a shattered jewel
rose by any named same idea
to serve the very role, inspiring
respiration, and a certain thankful note,

this window seen into and through,
as seeing into light
in all the colors
that make white seem soft
on the eyes.

It was a weekly dose day,
I look
at the time, while 3:29
cloudy, good wet outside


sneezing a series
of three and
one snuffle not swallowed then

breathe'd again,
take some space,
feel safe
for a while, kinda thinking

something's funny.

Weil's, not Wile's Proof,
this is the last stack
to filter
I have one gingerbread cookien
and two once used Tetly tea disks

when I am hungry and have coffee,
wish I may return
to satisfactory
resets
tea will do
go on, do it

Crossing the commons, laughing
in cyberspace, as conceived
in ARPA networks
of children asked
to form opinions,

what would you do
with a spelling tool
which knows all the words
and holds any we catch
on an infinite roll
of light we have
to write on
-
now can
that mean the same thing
in 197 Wikid-pedian tongues?
-
Wikipedian, parsing
CamelCaseLinking the scattered
data base fed us weforming plans
at will, all one could read and draw
to scale, brains cooperating
in scattered mankind,
so…
by late 2024…

as the doctrine evolved,
to seem globally alert
wise as
to clues, portents
of war or rising tides,

culturally mingling reasons
for worth and value
to be judged,

worth the attention paid any TV,
as we pass and take
in the time
of day;
when the whole world could know,
at once, a long anticipated event,

the second coming, acknowledged done,
indeed, or right now, some one who was

alive, at the announcement,
"there be some, standing here…"

In each short generation, each era's
birth cohort, those born between wars,
too close
to the next war
to be useful, they
strive all their lives
to prove war good, agreeing
to spend all life's potential profits on it.

Well, it came
to pass, when noted
in scripture globally used

to form powers
to enforce adherence
to interpretted dreams.

Holy gnosis, indeed, that knack,
of make believe, be not deceived,
Truth, as the Way Life's made,

is not mocked.

To tell the truth,
to one's own self, late
in life, as it were, while information
access, as it were, wetted the appetite,

for total immersion global literacy… a
we, we develop
from scratches
on stones.

Hohokam, those who vanished,
those who's lives are all used up,

lived where Phoenix is today.

We can recall research, just enough
to get by,
with an unresearched reason

thinking once
in Papago Park
I don't remember
to define my terms,
in order
to converse
with dead poets, preposed
who chose
to stay quiet, across time,

taking patience stretching lessons,
from story rejecting Jews, whose advantage,
in almost everything is the result
of knowing how
to sell a set
of moral values,
with Wisdom, patiently

post comprehension
of good news,
in times
of turmoil, such as we survived, as well.

When I know, my Grand ma,
was a rescue bride, twice chosen, once
as an orphan
without words, a native child
it was assumed, she had

{really materialized during an attempt
to understand, funda mind stant instance
ghost dance whyingmisabuse}

Minds
with ever sworn honor,
on each and every signifying glory ribbon
in the wind, as the Fighting 7th represents
arms, and bemetaled banners wavering
for victory held

each war reason, was the last.
Aitia.
Stood still,
to say what have we made today,

sense of many things long stood under, now,

looked down
on as signal
in side-real time,

just thinking
if we were
to judge angels, message memes,
when should one think
one must begin,
feeding children Suessible minds, begun

Genius
of us, uses made up just
in time,
to leave us co-be the makers
of the storm, portending
inheriting the wind;

these days, and those days, such as always
reoccur following abstractions
fit precisely
to the drama
of the childhood
of common man, wombed or un, undone
presupposed, prepositionally, spelt
discombobulated needed
no pedigree,
real state…
we knew the feeling,
finding dime store
time stretchers,
an abstraction Lisa painted,
touching moment, did it happen?,
here it did,
canonical internet
stories
with culturally significant messaging,
recommender bot 101
for strivers ever
after managing such wills as are being done,
on earth, but not as those same roles play out
in heaven,

as truth forms a self concept
in time, and we find ourselves swallowed
agree, this is ever,
after that, happening as we
agree, this is ever and we are init
for goodness sake,

rock on, Sisyphus, it's all downhill from here,
Jello time wink
slow thunk

this, an loneliness, amused me to no end.
I hope you had fun, you were not obliged,

religation on formal spirit mind sets,
never works, you could say this any where…

any one spends time reading
on phones.
502 or not please tell me if you don't especially like how long in takes to read.

— The End —