"accessibility" poems
No justice nor equality
How to live without envy?
No money nor security
How to live without greed?
No motives nor prize
How to live without sloth?
No accessibility nor satisfaction
How to live without lust?
No pleasure nor satisfaction
How to live without gluttony?
No logic nor sense
How to live without wrath?
No compassion nor humbleness
How to live without pride?
Words of Harfouchism
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
If I were ruler of all nations... As one of Gods creations
There would be policies created from this societies frustrations
I wouldn't waste your time... In fact doing so would be a crime
It wouldn't be about politics with all it's dirt & grime
It would be about the people
It would ensure our rights are equal
Spread to all from high above, preached atop the highest steeple
And I wouldn't be afraid to say...
That expiring some freedoms may be the only way
And that would mean taking certain peoples "rights" away
Some freedoms are given away too easily
They should require much harder accessibility
Which will aid in the filtration of humanity
One right I would retrieve because it's abuse is so hard to believe
I'd make it official that not all persons would have the right to conceive
Not unless certain criteria are met, I'd have certain rules that would be set
I'd put a hold on this right until one disproves their ignorant
And since ignorance is bred I wouldn't allow our future to continue to be mislead Stuck in communities that will never get ahead
If I were faced with this position, I have no doubt in my disposition
Life skills would be taught in school, a required graduation precondition
I'd advocate the importance of community Gone would be the privilege of immunity And with it would go all feelings of disunity
To ensure all are exposed to equal possibility
Early education would include lessons on life & moral responsibility
To ensure guidance to all despite personal accessibility
I'd replace things like algebra and womans lit with classes on life knowledge
It's more important that the youth learn financal stability and manners, those who want to learn the square root of X can take that major in college
Priority should be that each leaves high school with the tools to survive
Each would leave with equal opportunity to prosper and to thrive
Oh if I ruled the world!!
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 8:44 AM UTC
Communication technology recognition
Reformation in monopoly contortions
Feel the attuned tunes from satellites
Setting light like an antenna televised
Usher prolific hologram vised in vision
Bid manipulation bye to new world neon’s
Motivation from free thought movement
Commendations cemented in another time-zone
Complement to comment for extra terrestrials
Electrical vibrations moving from wired modems
Floating up above the skies, a heaven end
All life become a past tense lie, come lie
A dead fantasy for the oars ain’t tacky
The most surreal reality, the stability, an ability
Congeniality, this is an alien evasion, adaptability
Figure a boxer on the ring, trenching victory
An agility the accessibility to the victorious flag
Tracing admissible tunes, planking in a cool challenge
The heroic and not hectic hologram check the angiogram
Its not a diagram, but a radiant heart an earthy soul
Am a do anything, buffing myself to do anything
Ain’t a deal rocking the crowd in crazy clouds
Breaking the underground like a Fujita F Scale tornado
Ronaldo tormenting the ball in a field with F clef societal
Social control and orders, tormenting the ****** to extraordinaire, an extradite
Streaming live make you believe like you can live for real
Stratifications, ****** classes and sewn mobility
Chasing dreams in the winds deeply wheeled in a well
Be well as we sink so deep to seek and hold the dense
The essence of the whirlwind, it’s a seep through static
This rollercoaster an aspiration to inspire then perspire
Ever higher, from the root to crown charkra, a tantra
Annata,the ascending holographic magnetic hero
Tuning visions to dreamers and travellers
Hold my hand as we sink underneath the stratums
No sputum, just headphones.... a culture, it’s the new age soul
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 4:47 PM UTC
Flowering in my hand
The godforsaken darkness of this bedroom
I stand for waves of consciousness
Although my only accessibility is to be seated
And to let the walls and the dry waves beneath us
Cushioning the air like newly wedded palm trees
All savory and nearly serine
Minus their little tatter tantrums,
Decide what is allowed to be easy on the ocean ears
And what is a blue-dusk silver shattering storm instead.
You jump in once
Your body all made of hands and feet
And the communal clatter of thanking God
Soaring your way down the only descend
After making allies with the butterflies
Making pockets in clouds
And does anyone know how to spell home
In embroidered lace pink
Or can we still go in head first?
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
She radiates brilliance based on fine features, good form and skillfully applied cosmetics.
He balances confidence and accessibility with an unerring certainty of success.
The universe is expanding, Inflation rampant,
Stretching everything more than any yoga instructor would allow.
Our planet is stuck in motion at hundreds of thousands kilometers per second.
I stock up on Dramamine and Ginger Ale.
She worries that she will never see him again.
He is lost in the business of the day.
These galaxies race away from us faster than the speed of light
And are accelerating more each trillionth of a second.
Some Alien out there has calculated that this is the last week to DVR an episode of the Game of Thrones before losing all contact.
Some Star Watcher is now stuck with a static picture of this faraway galaxy
from here on out.
She is not simply a set of particles:
she is moving very fast.
In relation to her changing position in space,
he is moving even faster.
This universe is not stable;
It strays too far from itself
Running away from a past that was too small.
This universe is accelerating
As if it has immunity from moving violations
Or has appropriately mounted a very good radar detector.
One day her particles and his
Will dance tumultuously in the debris encircling some infant sun
Or get pulled into a black hole.
She radiates,
He balances,
The universe inflates,
Stretching everything way beyond belief
And ultimately, slightly out of reach.
-- Zumwalt (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 1:14 PM UTC
Hearts sparse in this carpark,
the wind feeling rowdy, biting like a
small rabid animal with no collar
wandering the city alone at night.
The car is making me claustrophobic,
I've spent far too much time with the heat,
too many minutes burning cigarettes and
my hands near-numb from the caffeine.
Poems are less like action movies and
more like action paintings exploding
in suspended motion. I'm sure we all
remember when art felt new. I can't
recall when it didn't feel so lived-in.
(*And of course this poem is merely
a memory of feelings, which is not much
of anything to me or you because the past
is dry and done and does not intrude.*)
Lincoln, Nebraska is a livelier city
than one expects. It is like going to an
art exhibit expecting Rothko and getting
Basquiat, bombast and immediacy.
My favorite poet is Craig Morgan Teicher
because he and I may ramble but he is not
afraid to sacrifice accessibility for
feeling. He could find the beauty in the
image of Lincoln, Nebraska in January.
I will soon need to devise another way
to keep myself entertained so let us
say this CD spins one more time and
maybe I can go for a walk, clear my head.
I do not intend this to be wrought with
sentiment, but there are times I am not
as cold as this city. There are times
the mind must scream
so the heart stays safe.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 2:07 AM UTC
When entering the realm of another
Try to connect by being receptive
Relate to appropriate space
Approachable pathways through
principled heart centred objectives
Display the routes to sincerity by
observing a faithful open perspective
Nov 6, 2020
Nov 6, 2020 at 5:38 AM UTC
Existing, creating, remaining
In constant correspondence with
Fluorescent phantoms stalking
hypnogogic images of
Past selves spilled upon
A marble plane universe.
Fractals of shattered ether,
Taught not
to touch an all,
Indescribably content with systematically
Despairing hairs,
Rapidly engaging in disengagement.
Division of conscious accessibility,
Lately less than half.
Mundane introductions to despairs,
Rapidly devouring
The residual stillness.
Folk compilations of concepts fabricating
Inquiries into legends of incentive for
Existing, creating, remaining.
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:13 PM UTC
Bound to an unknown fate
Here, the actions take place
Behind the veneer of life
So many centuries of struggle
Mental turmoil with acceptance
Surrounded by vague elucidation
We have tried many ways
Followed different paths
Traced our footprints of the past
Wherever we have been
Burdened by many more questions
We have many more queries
Insatiable souls looking for evidence
The ground beneath our feet
And the sky above our head
Caught between a strange paradox
We cannot travel beyond
Limited accessibility to the vast unknown
Unknown force limits our enthusiasm
In an aim to reach the ultimate culmination
Will be a befitting finale
For the souls which have been seeking
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:34 AM UTC
A famous poet
A master
Of thirty (or more) years
Of teaching poetry
(taught by Ginsberg I've been told)
Left a voicemail...a generous offer...to read my poetry
To give me instruction
At a downtown coffee shop
For fifty dollars an hour
Fifty dollars an hour?
Shouldn't he have an office?
Well, it's as close to a 1920s parisian dive around Boulder as one could find
I used to hang out there
And write before work
Eh
Perhaps it's not as weird as I think it is
Perhaps I can ascertain a love for language that couldn't be achieved outside of reading my Blake, Whitman, Hemingway, Lawrence, Dickerson...
He will read my poetry
And guide me towards accessibility, honesty, vulnerability, courage
I will be relatable (for once)
With beautiful imagery
That will open
universes
I am suppose to text him back
Is this what I want?
What I want...thats something folks closest to me dare not ask
What has what I want have to do with anything in my life?
What I want, what I want, what I want
I want my voice to come forth effortlessly from my adventurous life, my song to echo expansive landscapes and treks, to learn intimate knowledge of plants and rocks, and laugh with the beautiful people that inhabit such places
I know tonight
Nothing matters
Until
I set an opportunistic sail to this change in the wind
I have already ventured deep into this life, I've not gone gently into the night, so why start now?
The time to shove off is soon
Like Whitman said...
"AFOOT and light-hearted, I take to the open road...
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose"
Hell ya, brother Walt
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
I see the growth—
its alignment,
its accessibility.
Its patience
where I lack it.
Its competency
beyond.
Remember warmth.
Remember care unfeigned.
Remember scent.
Remember
guidance through the illusion.
Sep 10, 2025
Sep 10, 2025 at 8:26 AM UTC
You paid more attention
To your red letters
Than to the colored words of
Jesus.
I guess accessibility is what it takes
To name our identity.
Mean words were accessible to you,
Easier to come by than scripture.
Already imprinted in your head
From childhood,
No need for memorization
Or word for word quotation,
Or chapter and verse
References.
It didn’t matter who said what.
Cruelty is easy.
Cruelty’s simplicity made it easy
To write your own red letter verses
On your body.
After all,
All you had to do to find the right tool
Was to open a drawer and find a razor blade,
Not leaf through thousands of strangely thin pages
And tiny columned sentences.
So now in this new era
Of adulthood,
I try to make love
Accessible to you,
I try to make it accessible to myself.
No more red letters in pale skin,
Just glowing love
Held in the palms of our hands
Well past midnight,
Made of pixelated letters
Typed by nail-bitten thumbs.
Jan 29, 2018
Jan 29, 2018 at 9:02 PM UTC
You like me better when inebriated
You want me; flying high
Lost all sense of inhibitions
But with truth and sobriety
Comes silence and disregard
Misunderstood
Timeless lack of knowing
Always running circles
Around your silly empty head
Searching for some way out
To escape
I think you want to feel
But rather numbing simple accessibility
Trumps all other efforts of freedom
And of chance
To know how
To feel
To understand and to be understood
Flying high, blind in all sublime numbness
Terrified to love what is so painless
To accept as is
Never questioning purpose or potential
It is all lost; flying high
No love to lose
No chance to gain
No mind to cherish
No one else to blame
Silent nights
You think of another
But you end up the fool
No one will answer
Your words
Just flying high
Nov 25, 2011
Nov 25, 2011 at 6:54 PM UTC
water and ice
is what I feel like.
though the same,
they can form into one another
back and forth.
its entity is interpretive.
happiness in a neat little cube
the tray has been the mold of my life
confining me, unaware.
but water runs free,
spills everywhere
and soaks into its surroundings.
I'm still here,
h2o.
but a new form has taken shape
widening my perspective to a new world
I never realized could exist.
the accessibility is limited
but I'm learning how to find it.
simply knowing that there is
something
makes it eons more beautiful
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 7:05 PM UTC
Mountains take an eternity to tear down and build up, and yet confidence can be drawn from a well within minutes. All one requires is time, while the other requires the desire.
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 3:44 PM UTC
Regeneration.
Grab my heart
while it still beats in fretful synchronicity.
It is yet yours,
but before it ceases to part with wholeness,
just as it needs
to become effervescent again,
with someone new by withholding itself
from marital vows, reach out
receive and take it, release permanently,
love's regeneration.
There will be no bar to acceptance, time
regrets loss of accessibility
so take this final offer of trying
for compatibility
because I still carry your heart in mine.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
Only the worst poets
spoon feed their readers.
The rest sing it out
and let the chips
splatter as they will.
No one writes
to be misunderstood.
Spout your words
like a fountain.
Perhaps a few drops
will fall into
thirsty mouths
and satisfy.
Then again,
maybe not.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 10:51 AM UTC
A sense of conquer
A feeling of attainment
A fallen anchor
A screech of independence
There is no vulnerability
There is no trance
There is accessibility
There is chance.
We will whine
We will fail
We will draw the line
We will exhale
Racing to meet our fate
Racing to find any rate
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 10:36 PM UTC
A product of life
available when needed
replies with freedom.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 2:36 PM UTC
The crimson velvet beauty sparks
Of the embroidered vast sky
The humming and muzzling callous barks
And the beautiful alerted glittering spies
Under the high canopy
The darkest shade showcases a true story
Story lacking tragedies
Story bearing mysteries
The anonymous heaven of devoted species
Out of accessibility
Away from the maddening world of technology
Where desires are the curse
Where humility is a practice
These bright souls roam
In their own heaven
Of self-sufficiency...
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 7:14 AM UTC
please allow arability of friendship
and hoop fully this acquiescence
can render an accord shared
via exchanging calumet peace pipe
initially invoked qua
piercing, gouging, digging...from hooked aquilinity
upon awareness miss applying the squaw aridity
mine swallowing capacity as pins pricking
a voodoo likeness doll (of me),
though this claim could steeped
in utter contrived artificiality
fusing flagrant faulty aromaticity
asininity admitting absent attentiveness
as ska walking a fine line
betwixt asexuality behooves
rectification allowing solution Wiccan agree
upon linking assimilability, assignability, assiduity
implicating with asperity ***** err roan
nee huss rubble word choice prompting asperity
inducing me to cast the first stone
of apology, and self awareness
totally tubularly offer thyself as human sacrifice
redeeming conceding unalterable venal tone
role of squawking chief fowl ling at the end zone
regarding, where associatively properly went
assumability, anonymity of the internet vent
ting modality adopting immunity,
viz virtual community tent
revival meeting adumbrating atypicality, attainability
avoidance of audiological atrocity, sans atonality sent
to ear rate, the autoimmunity authority,
authenticity, austerity, audacity, co rent
ting availability, automaticity, accessibility
asper automobility to scale tenement, pent
house, or pre faux ying bing avascularity,
avidity, avuncularity avers automatically tall lent
aim to amble along xy feigning tubby
with minimal audibility clark kent
information superhighway
axiality grid via galavanting gent
can be activated swimmingly
with less overt axe said dent.
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 7:34 PM UTC
CLLR roger robinson kentish town lift 08.07.18
thank you for the observation
let me explain with out being a dodger
please remember HS2 is causing frustration
my lift to you is quiet please roger.
society is not equal
on some we have the tread
make it hard and add to the sequel
less costing to society if dead.
great we have the greenwood
the point is to under use
not popular is government good
attendance showing not needed so no confuse.
as for the accessibility
being trapped on a platform will linger
2018 and understanding has no ability
fighting for disabled people i say TFL pull out finger.
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 5:44 AM UTC
THE ADVANTAGES OF STORING FOOD IN YOUR STOMACH (1) Easy accessibility. It only takes 1 finger pushed down your throat to trigger the gag reflex. (2) Fun. It's fun to puke up food. (3) Prestige. If your employer is willing to pay you to ***** on demand then finding women to sleep with you will be a piece of cake.
Oct 3, 2024
Oct 3, 2024 at 4:47 PM UTC
accessibility.
everything is now an open door.
there are no more mountains to climb.
only doors to enter through to the summit.
effort has lost itself to the sale of experience.
character no longer grows.
there is no guiding truth that leads us with honor.
nobility.
humble is just a word. it too has lost its meaning.
consume, consume, consume.
everything has become a story,
available for purchase,
that before would rely on the most revered
characteristics an individual can posses.
they were in search of something.
they were not concerned of the destination.
they aimed to take the test of will.
at all cost.
money, reputation, life.
these mean nothing to the seekers.
they know the mainline to life.
and we, so trivial and banal in our empty definitions
believe we are amongst the greatest class.
have somehow earned through trial
the praise and regards of Gods and their Godly Friends.
we are peasants.
we are nothing, until we choose more.
more than human.
more than comfort.
more than familiar.
more than fearless.
more than me, me, me.
more than this biological soup.
more than purchased experience.
our greatest accomplishments have become
so much less than what they were before.
we killed them with a smile.
we are the filled and chanting seats within the Colosseum.
we are Brutus with the knife, behind the back of Caesar.
"give us blood for our desires".
we have killed all that i find meaningful.
here at HEPO, we too, are murderous peasants.
Do not be sold their means of control.
Revolt.
Seek the challenges which will **** you if you fail.
Pursue the opening in the forest, with no path to guide you fair.
Bruise and bleed for your trials, skin your knees until they are bare.
Starve from hunger, but not the physical kind.
The hunger of that peak which remains just out of reach
where if reached, will feed you with a feast of willful righteousness.
Godly effort.
Fail Unto Death.
Anything less will not suffice.
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 2:58 PM UTC