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raw with love Nov 2015
(Yes, better than Harry Potter, get your pitchforks ready)

My first encounter with THG was approximately four years ago, when I had barely turned fourteen, did not consider myself bilingual and was romantically frustrated. Naturally, I made several mistakes at the time. First off, I read the series in translation, since I'm not a native English speaker, and missed out a huge chunk of the significance of the story. Then, as I said, I was romantically frustrated and thus paid such a monstrous amount of attention to the romance aspect of the story that I want to bitchslap myself. Finally, at fourteen, I was still ignorant and uneducated about so many things that I read the series, got hyped for perhaps six months or so, then forgot all about it, save for the occasional rewatch of the movies. In retrospect, this is probably one of the biggest mistakes I've ever made. Now, at the ripe old age of eighteen, a significantly better-read person, waaay more woke, as well as socially aware, I decided to finally read the series in the original and am finally able to put my thoughts together in a coherent, educated review of the series.

The Hunger Games has continuously been compared to a number of other books and series, occasionally put down as inferior and forgettable. In those past few years I managed to read a great part of the newly established young adult dystopian genre and am able to argue that A. The Hunger Games is undoubtedly universal and unrestricted to young adult audiences and that B. it is, without the slightest shade of uncertainty, the best series written in our generation.

While many people draw parallels between The Hunger Games and, say, Battle Royale, the similarities end with the first book, which, while spectacular in execution, seems unoriginal in its very idea. As the series unrolls, however, it is hardly possible to compare it to anything, save for, perhaps, Orwell's 1984. The social depiction and the severe criticism laid down in the very basis of the story are so brutally honest that it fails my understanding how the series was ever allowed to become this popular. What starts out as a story about a nightmarish post-Apocalyptic world works up to be revealed as a cleverly veiled portrayal of our own morally degraded and dilapidated society (if you're looking for proof, seek no further: as the series was turned into several blockbuster movies, public interest was primarily concerned with the supposed love triangle rather than the bitter truths concealed in the narrative). Class segregation, media manipulation, dysfunctional governments are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the realities that The Hunger Games so adroitly mimics. If I were to dissect, chapter by chapter, all three books, I'd probably find myself stiff with terror at the accuracy of the societal portrait drawn by Collins. I strongly advise those of you who haven't read the series between the lines to immediately do so because no matter how many attempts I make to point it out to you, you simply have to read the series with an alert sense of social justice to realize that it doesn't simply ring true, it shakes the ground with rock concert amplifiers true.

Other than the plot that unfolds into a civil war by the third book (the series deals so amazingly with trauma survival and with depicting the atrocities of war that I am still haunted by certain images), the characters of the story are what makes it all the more realistic. Though Hollywood has done a stunningly good job in masking the shocking reality of the fact that these are children - aged twelve through eighteen, innocent casualties paying for the adults' mistakes; children forced into prostitution, fake relationships, children forced into maneuvering through a world of corruption, media brain-washing and propaganda.

Consider Katniss. She is a person of color (olive-skinned, black-haired, gray -eyed, fight me if you will but she is not a white person), disabled (partially deaf, PTSD-sufferer, malnourished), falling somewhere in the gray spectrum both sexually and romantically. As far as representation goes, Katniss is one of the most diverse characters in literature, period. Consider Peeta, his prosthetic leg (which, together with Katniss's deafness, has been conveniently left out of the movies) and his mental trauma in the third book. Consider Annie's mental disability. Consider Beetie in his wheelchair. Consider all the people of color, as well as the fact that people in the Capitol seem to have neglected all sorts of gender stereotypes (e.g. all the men are wearing makeup). There is absolutely no doubt that the series is the most diverse piece of literature out there. Consider this: the typical roles are reversed and Peeta is the damsel in distress whereas Katniss does all the saving.

Furthermore, the alarming lack of religion (in a brutal society reliant on the slaughter of children God serves no purpose), as well as several other factors, such as the undisputed position of authority of President Snow, is suspiciously reminiscent of the already familiar model of a totalitarian society.

The Hunger Games, in other words, is revolutionary in its message, in its diversity, in the execution of its idea, in its universality. I mentioned Harry Potter in the subtitle. While this other series has played a vital role in the shaping of my character, it has gradually receded to the back line for several reasons, one of which is how problematic it actually is. This, though, is a problem for another day. (The Hunger Games is virtually unproblematic and while it may be argued that the LGBTQ society is underrepresented, a momentary counterargument is that *** has a role too insignificant in the general picture of the story to be necessary to be delved into this supposed problem). Where I was going with this is that, at the end of the day, Harry Potter, while largely enjoyed by adults and children alike, is a children's book and contains a moral code for children, it was devised to serve as a moral compass for the generation it was to bring up. The Hunger Games, on the other hand, requires you to already have a moral compass installed in order to understand its message. It is, as I already said, a straightforward critique of a dysfunctional society, aimed at those aware and intelligent enough to pick on it.

As for its aesthetic qualities, the series is written, ominously, in the present tense, tersely and concisely, yet at the same time in a particularly detailed and eloquent manner. It lacks the pretentious prose to which I am usually drawn, yet captivates precisely with the simplicity of its wording, which I believe is a deliberate choice, made so as to anchor the story to the mundane reality of the actual world that surrounds us.

That being said, I would like to sum up that The Hunger Games is, to my mind, perhaps the most successful portrayal of the world nowadays, a book series that should be read with an open mind and a keen sense of social awareness.
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
In the divet between mountains
Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape
Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit
Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps
Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil
Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound
A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds

Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra
A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls
A venerably ancient ritual

My nascent clandestine vocation
Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary

Along glacier-fed stream
Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments

I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance
Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path

The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion
I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form
Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux

As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty
Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover
Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate

Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse
Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift

Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds
Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus
Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above
Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary

Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further
Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode

And I -
Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle
Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours
Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles
Marshal Gebbie Jul 2015
Pandering to platitudes am I….
Running riotously adrift
To spice my day with pleasures.
Pleasures caste in portraiture so stark
Of thee my love, of thee.

In curvature of smooth refrain
And delving vortex of unimaginably fine dark fur.
Reclined in attitude of ease…
With mischief dancing about thy porcelain, painted lips.

Oh that I could die with this indelible art?
Slip away to this shrill cacophony of sweet,sensate spree?

M.
Reece Dec 2013
Bluebell Lucy danced in fantastic flames, taught by shamanic figures
  when the winter nights grew tiresome
  and lonely boys ran passionately in village streets
She stood on ancient structures and sang her song with uttermost vigor
  even after mild paranoia sets in, she stands statuesque
  breathing harmonic, listening intently to the cloud's chatter
Her cobalt lashes flickered adroitly when she scanned the sky atop her locks
  and let the coming rains wash through that azure mane
  until the kiss of eternal gratitude arrived from a stray bird
On cobble stone paving, her heels were worn and dampened, she nimbly strides
  how beautiful it is to see a spirit so free
  and the obstinate world yields to her alone
Loosely, Lucy with a cerulean aura, gathers the injured and feral in alabaster arms
  she is yagé and the world hallucinates because of her
  a subtle enlightenment she gives to onlookers and thieves
Camu Camu sprouting from the wells she digs with bare hands in midnight moonlight
  her compatriots, the beasts of lost tribes, look onwards
  and she wails a verse on hemerocallis singular sensation
The flower that she is, a wild one that grows sporadically to enhance the beauty of existence
  and everybody incomprehensible in thoughts when she speaks
  because she is love when love had died so many suns ago
PK Wakefield May 2010
accurate matchstick chimneys
1x1x1x1 thrice loaded hill
plume crisp smirking billow
(sapphire cheek smudge)ed
colossal cog wielding minute
machinations mesh adroitly

amorphous child of hot mouthed stacks
brittle precisely under airy duress
manifest a slow d e     c         a                 y

       o



                                 f



y








         o















                               u
Bruised Orange Mar 2013
The box poses on my table,
So patient in its guise.
Allures its extent to baffle,
And prove me thus unwise.

To draw me closer it will bait
And lure by fine sweet sounds,
Perplexity my new bed mate,
Mischief that knows no bounds.

I lie in this bed and ponder,
Choice is mine, is it not?
What gifts inside I do wonder!
Temptation's guile my lot.

Gilded and exquisitely wrought,
Intricacy unparalleled,
My prolonged resistance for naught,
My hand thus adroitly compelled!
an older piece.  A riddle.  Who am I?
1636

The Sun in reigning to the West
Makes not as much of sound
As Cart of man in road below
Adroitly turning round
That Whiffletree of Amethyst
awesome apothecary addressed as Agamemnon  
alleviates anxiety, and alimentary aggravation
anodyne appeasement arrests ailment
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness

assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault air afoul
affable affinity affects adumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,

although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,

and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored

autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals

acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance  
addict adrift afloat anchors away

assails along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration

against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite

acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable

any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted

alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as aerosmith ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant

acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.
mEb Nov 2010
My locum outer self is identified as a conferer,
A deep **** stirrer; I frod miserably when trouble occurs
Out in the open I am hidden from sight of Earthly cures
Sparsely telluric on my own
Adroitly celestial in my dome
Scape goat from head to toe;
I'd drown in and out too many populating
Coruscating as you'd spy
Balky the opposite: Illuminating inside
My barbaric inner self un identified as unseen;
Real keen are my advances
I'm a tone deft prancing like I can carry tune
An elitist with the perfect groove
That's what you;d say if given impression hand first
Of course, I'd finish the enitire plate without the quench for thirst
And I'm hard to capture by pithy eyes too
And I'm hard to real inside outside
And neither never am I ever; on cue
PK Wakefield Feb 2011
christ was gangling,PARTICULARLY,of crucifix
drooping silverly reposed upon woodish portals
heavy oaken clasp swung adroitly to harbor
the rough shale and silk. the littlest chaplain
was swearing in there
                                       hewassaying"****"
Third Eye Candy Oct 2011
Fashionably Unexpected*


        the devil had arrived but as the sun was at it's peak
the invitation was for nine, but  in the evening
of next week...
he was naked save the toga, and his flaxen locks of gold
and a massive crop of wings, slightly mussed; -
adroitly posed.

i had just been in the garden, plucking apples from a limb
with my pruning shears and sherry
and no clue it might be him....
but there     i stood astounded,    having thought   -
" I  heard  the  bell ? "

and again
by ' Who'd ' Come knocking
on my mallet chain
from Hell.

the devil held a mirror and a silver box, ornate
with the likeness of a lotus and an acorn
on a plate...
the gilding was perfection, and the mirror was opaque
but the fallen one was flawless
as the smile upon
        his face...

and how i broke the silence in my simple garden threads
was to ramble at the Serpent
as I handed him a Jacket.


Amused by my conceit that any custom i condone
were applied with an epoxy
Only carpenters from Rome, that were spotless and
And from Nazareth
with a Father
and a Ghost -
A Mother without Blemish
and Disciples in a grove...
And blessed be
the Mercy of the Lending
of the glue
by the resurrected Handy Man
and  King of
all the Jews !

The Morningstar obliged!  
But held the blazer
in rebuke
He grimaced His Displeasure
And instantly  
for proof
He dismembered my regalia
and assembled it anew
Into such a splendid Toga
There was nothing
I could do -
but simply     step aside
as all  the sting
had let the ruse.

I received the Prince of Darkness
Wearing gloves and dirt and boots
Brian Oarr Sep 2012
It's a feminine eye that first detects
absurdity as a condition of existence.
In the deepest resources of my unconscious,
in that place where ego slept in the ****,
I knew she saw through me like
Roentgen X-rays of my soul.
Ultimately, it was my pride that
caused us to fly in different ways;
burning love had poured
from the lamps of our bodies,
shrouded in mystery,
like the day of a king or
more adroitly the nights of a queen.
We had found identity, yet
all signs of subtlety,
any shred of relationship,
were forfeit to the pale mackerel sky.
734

If He were living—dare I ask—
And how if He be dead—
And so around the Words I went—
Of meeting them—afraid—

I hinted Changes—Lapse of Time—
The Surfaces of Years—
I touched with Caution—lest they crack—
And show me to my fears—

Reverted to adjoining Lives—
Adroitly turning out
Wherever I suspected Graves—
’Twas prudenter—I thought—

And He—I pushed—with sudden force—
In face of the Suspense—
“Was buried”—”Buried”! “He!”
My Life just holds the Trench—
Devin Weaver Feb 2013
The flesh of which the body holds its form
Objective mass, so grateful, held in debt
And I the glutton, swelled from thinner norm
Destroying each whose faith was lain unkept

‘Tis known to me that life a body met
But I do hold the life therein with scorn
Although the marriage seemed adroitly set
My mind from home is rent, forever torn

Would I could once remove the skin of thorn
Betrayed and jailed, as I indeed deserve
As flesh enfeebled me to acts forlorn
For my misdeeds no tears should lie reserved

That hide were forged of thought would be my will
Within the vaulted mind is beauty still
PK Wakefield May 2011
A
                                                               ­        heart is where its
                                                             ­          gaggle of appropriate nerves
                                                          ­             tingle singing nerves
                                                          ­             single teeming nerves
                                                          ­             a tumult of aching skin
                                                            ­           towers correctly sublime
                                                         ­              a balmy twinge of evenings
                                                        ­               who curl with clearest scent
                                                           ­            about the firmer freshly body
                                                            ­           of the thighs quaking totally
                                                         ­              (a face that twists heroically
                                                      ­                  churns adroitly
                                                        ­                in adoring pleasure
                                                                ­        wreaking fragile sturdy
                                                          ­              crescents
                                         ­                               limping on the hotting
                                                         ­               chalice of her febrile
                                                         ­               brink. she totters just almost
                                                          ­              at it. right at it fiercely.
                                                       ­                 her flush groaning
                                                        ­                her garden parting
                                                         ­               ),i flay the difficult ugly
                                                            ­           that wears on her this
                                                            ­           common uncanny second
                                                          ­             i turn her sorely into naked
                                                           ­            flavored robes writhing
                                                        ­               between her thrashing together
                                                        ­               i stab her forever giddy
                                                           ­            my placid crashing”
Anderson M Mar 2017
A honeyed voice that makes love
To musical notes, subtly, intricately, tacitly.
On the dance floor she defies gravity albeit adroitly
Moving rhythmically, sampling moves from a treasure trove
Of influences spanning continents and varied cultures.
Atmosphere’s charged, taut with electric tension
The audience’s jaws had long since dropped
At the fast sight of her and it’s interesting to note
That until the routine’s over
They’ll stay put, held in place
By a blend of magical hypnosis
And sheer eclectic energy.
Well one doesn’t need to be an art connoisseur
To appreciate art, can’t help but savor.
Brother Jimmy Nov 2016
Ah yes, I remember this well,
The fumbling about in the darkness of  the cottage, as the narrator feels his way around the room,
The hair raising sound described,
A pronunciation of his friend's name,
By some being that seemed crystalline rather than organic
And the adrenaline that electrified his whole body upon hearing it.

The odd extra-tellurian reference frame that the creature seemed bound to so that it was not quite perpendicular to the floor...
...but that doesn't quite describe it.
It was, more accurately, that the creature was tied to some external reference frame which doesn't quite match our own.

While reading the story aloud to my children, Modulating my voice as adroitly as I am able, Pausing occasionally to define terms or explain references to the preceding book in the trilogy, I'm struck again by the author's talent; the depth and breadth of it, the power of description to elicit mood in the reader,
The completeness...and I wonder how many rewrites it took.

I notice the breathing of two of my three children has become regular.  
They've drifted to that other plane of existence.  
I pause...and Lottie's voice, a little too loud, cuts the near silence, "You aren't stopping, are you?", causing her sister to stir briefly.  "Nope!", say I, and I continue, doing my best to keep the theatrics in my voice.  
But the words are starting to dance on the page as I grow cross-eyed in my languor.

Finally I reach the chapter's end, place the bookmark and say, "And that, my dear, is where we'll pick up the story next time".  
I reach to turn off the bedside lamp, and sleep for an hour or so until Lady Di gets home from the hospital.

These beings, surrounding me now, causing me to lie on my side at the very edge of the bed, taught me what love really is.  I love them more than I can ever express.
PK Wakefield Nov 2012
i have caught on the edge of shadows

               my hands

halfly splayed by quarters and 1/3s
darkness and lightness

(in my hands splayed, caught)

and folded it neatly into my soul

its heatness and its coolness

adroitly cupped in sudden gold:

SUMMERFALLAUTUMNSPRING
Fay Slimm Mar 2017
Time moves on remorseless yet fresh starts
appear plausible
if from parched discord
we form opportunities from which to carve.

Clearer choices for cutting free expand lone
coaster-rides but tried
ways of surprise
adroitly harness colour into bland unknown.

Distress creates apathy while unrestrained
euphoria decrees
time for growing new wings
and chances to better breed later decades.

Relocated those truncated dreams retreat
to re-form, dried to a crisp
but soon freshly adorned with
made resolutions to avoid future defeat.

Hope succeeds if, skilful in competence,
we apply learned
wisdom to hear the unheard
for discarding the old needs no audience.

Pushing ahead, cutting new paths again
exalts over former  
attempts raw angst to alter
past failure by wearing our skin unafraid.
12345678 microseconds til...69 pm

herewith fall lows ing lush goulash
   who doth pine  
   tongue waggin a fly wheel
   sincere soul
    whose shoe size
   measures about size nine

with pure motive to challenge
   thinking as my goal
   if drawn to language of wordsmith,
   or like this swiftly tailored/
   harried style of mine

   who wrought a jagged line
though i promise companionship
   twill be Harris Boss tweed fine
   a byte size musing to dine
with interpretation strictly
   within mind of the reader,

   which rich or on the dole
might nonetheless agree
   this post tubby asinine

mindfulness = the general under
lying sans this bloke, whose
philosophic eclectic metric,
hermetic, intrinsic...
outlook helps me access
and process reality.

toe this line to tread against da feet.

a personal yardstick as i plod
along boulevard of broken dreams,
whereby no animals will be harmed
in this life long journey before the kiss
of death, whence me cremated ashes
will be dispersed across temporal plane
from natural forces of earth, wind and fire.

Arch back like a professional ballet dancer
to stand out from other pedestrian applicants
seeking to fill my well worn shoes.

Illuminate your soul via modest
communication sans sole full insight
acquired thru being apprenticed with
storied prestigious law firm of Anne nic Culle,  
Achilles Heale, and Marathon Nike.

Keep your nose to the academic grind
stone despite temptation to appropriate
international family business and graduation
with supreme accolades from this famous father.

He i.e. slim shady forsook frivolity
per his peers in exchange a stock
reputation of gentility honesty,
and integrity despite humble roots
only male heir of a Middle Eastern
European Jewish mother and father.

They scrimped, saved and sacrificed
scarce resources to set stage for
this scion of well deserved fame and fortune.

Never forget those grandparents
whose adherence to work their
fingers to the bone (literally)
allowed, enabled and provided
this founding partner per the trio
of stalwart attorneys for underdogs
of the World Wide Web.

Match deeds with credo of obedience
to the law of the land,
as epitomized by Abraham Lincoln.

Such obeisance to a democratic dogma
will be firm steppingstones to engender
and kindle an Amazon zone of cathartic
karma from paternal persona.

Such acquiescence toward morals
of the conscience (and remembrance
of previous generations blood, sweat
and tears) will serve as intrinsic manna
for clients to clamor like an unstoppable
rolling stone to seek counsel from,
whose genuine heart felt equalitarian demeanor
a near perfect recipe for satisfaction
helping others smooth out jagged
abutments arising in their lives.

Rather than lecture and command
with a dictatorial cutthroat reign of terror
(as casually espoused in “The Prince”
by Machiavelli), this democratic,
humanistic, liberal minded torchbearer
of justice advises active listening (as
advocated by the late Jean Dole (who
eternally rests within a pineapple
under the sea), my renown mentor
from Lima, Pennsylvania), inculcating
intuitive posturing toward delivering
random acts of kindness.

This includes offer services pro bono
if an individual, family, municipality,
et cetera appears copacetic yet struggles
against insurmountable odds from
fickle finger of fate.

Exemplify by example of zeal for
underdog (immersed in catastrophic
series of unfortunate events) that money
need not be demanded before welfare
of down trodden such exuberance
witnessing an ear to ear smile of gratitude.

Rather than be biased, inclined
to be prejudiced based on cursory
observations of one or many barely
clinging to the life raft of survival,
I (as a humble human) encourage
a relationship of trust before casting
an indiscriminate eye toward those
less fortunate to live in the lap of luxury.

Luck (or the lack thereof) an invisible
yet potent additive to this mix those flush
with disposable income or exiled
to a hand to mouth hardscrabble dilemma.

Daily acknowledgement for ethnic,
genetic and quixotic claydice throw of chance
in tandem with loving support immediate
kith and kin instrumental keeping
in check bombastically egotistical, haughtily
radical degradation of fixation of values
steeped in appreciation of aesthetics,
beauty, charm, decency,
equality from gifts hoed inside.

Joyfulness keeps love moving
needling offset predilections.

Quality rests squarely upon pillars
of staying within bounds of service
to those less able bodied or beset
with untold obstacles that discourage
setting virtue (or the closest approximation
of what that means to the inquiring mind)
as precedent to blaze
a trail of care and concern.

Always maintain benevolent devotion
foreswearing greediness.

Invoke keepsake mandating omnipotent
natural personal righteousness to vaccinate
yourself against heinous, nefarious, pernicious,
et cetera rapacious trapdoors of selfishness.
-----------------------------------------------      
from::matthew scott harris

of unsound body, mind and spirit than
by all means and ways -- please ripple
lye to me, an adroitly, artistically brief,
crazily dazzling, erotically frisky, gladly
*****, ineluctably juicy, lovely, magically
noopy, opulently private, purring
quietly, romantically **** reap ply.

yes?

postscript: i in conjunction with zippy, x2c, yuppy, trippy, sleepy, sneezy, queasy, ruby, kooky, loony, jessie, inky, happy, grumpy, grouchy, ******, ernie, doobie, clumsy, et cetera plus snow white can vouch safe that the democratic party approves of thee above  message.
ogdiddynash Jul 2023
i am a slow dawner,
sometimes it takes a moment
or a day or even a daze,
till I realize that an insult
flung my way though it
didn’t latch on immediately

as her ears are in perpetuity
plugged with apple earbuds,
it is always a surprise when
she acknowledges me in
real-time and when it is a subtle
insect sized insult, it oft goes
steathily around me like a lion in jungle,
stalking its less than observant prey,
wing aweem away, right past me!

so when in a momentary open ear status,
I inform how nice it is to hear our actual
conversation, she adroitly respondez-moi
(en anglais)
with the title of this poem…
Yung Feb 2019
“Wrapped in death’s garment,” I adroitly wrote on a crumpled piece of paper. Shrouded in darkness and fear, am I the only fool that bleeds in this cold but empty room? Desolated in my mind but not empty, owing to the fact that I am in it. Yet, I don’t consider myself as something that lives anymore. I am an apparition while being called human. The feeling of a human being is what I so despise. However, being called a human is what makes me even more lonely, and this is the only way I can accept the reality of what a human really is. Knowing this, makes me want to disappear for good. I want to be wrapped in death’s garment.
Mimi Bordeaux Aug 21
Spiked Mulled Wine
Sweat like a corpse in a (dawny dowdy dawny) copse a forest of flies fire flight of twi-light seeblack-blue
opalesque pearlescent

nacreous pancreas lining
wining dining ending up with
the light of jesu
hindu master tweaks his little bells (out of) their shells

coapting coaxing
sticking it to the masses
passers by dreary teary bleary

feeling alone with your ***** dog ‘galbador’-real name — allyl cyclohexyl glycolate

why do I always look so socially drawny mawby scrawby lordy
baggy galpy scaredy catty claggy faggy end of this drive
eyes filled with pus?

cuss the weather
tether me knees together
going mad

already bad and sad
dad went years before and after mum did
leaving is all they know how to do well
it’s s a gift from my parents to scarper when the kids get too rowdy loudly
maudlin goblin mouldin thoughts on
one left side of my brain open cranial sacral chakra larkerseratonin my dopamine receptors
say hello to chemical imbalance of my lead head said
dead just alive

kept going by a senior psychiatrist who took an interest in my case file
larger than life itself
between two good neurones bashing clanging together

growing like a manic bipolar  transistor with a psychotic disorder
between two good neurones bashing clanging together

abruptly adroitly soulfully
she let me in
goll golly goldy go

comatose come home poem dome my tome reads like an amateur souless epiphany

head of aching shaking making noises of doom moon soon will be half shaped circle of like
please bring my elixir
its own packet
what’s that racket downstairs towards the bottom
back to me
head of aching shaking making noises of doom moon soon will be half shaped circle of like
fife mife byfe lyte lyfe pyfe myfe
brittle bendy bandy bones blown down drown

no sound when you’re under the water
immersed submersed macerated saturated ******
scouser
louse in my hair won’t go away
Andrew Guzaldo c Apr 2021
“In the reflex of love there is enigmatic elation,
That mingles in the face of ardor,
You may never think ones love can hurt so,
That it would always be as strong as it began,

Regardless of we fell in love resolutely,
As the waves adheres to the sea,
As our hearts for the moment adhere as one,
Our hearts beating with in fettle consent,

Allurement of both were positive, connectors,
****** attire charades softly to the ground,
As the captivation of bliss lays beneath our skin,
Contentment and bliss with the desirable joy between us,

Congenial pleasure as the night slows an hourly,
Bodies ache with pleasure as trail of kisses elongated,
As in the allured cold chill of the arctic trail and borealis,
Bid make ones blood run cold not we our souls interlocked,

As I thought was true love was not,
It was just ecstasy not love of both,
As she left a broken heart adroitly,
Me from moving on as your love departed,
I am left with that of melancholy infatuation”
  
By Andrew Guzaldo April 26, 2021 ©   #202
By Andrew Guzaldo April 26, 2021 ©   Poem#202 Hello Poetry
David Hilburn Dec 2018
Lushly, the gift
Of simplicity in a guarded eye
Today is our welfare, an eye to lift
And say, "Love is a reach for us, and knowing why?"

Wiser for the words, a host of contemplation
And future sincerity, enough of a lasting coil
The first's of demeanor in let, is our faith in kindred...
Keeping but the irony of a lingering kiss, never to foil?

Wiser for the resolve in each, tows of wishes
We demand are ours, for a serendipity's dream
And the stir of liberty, in a whole feat, for which is
A space of complexity, to ask in a weary voice, to seem:

"Love is a reason to us, and now why?"
Wiser for the decency we have shown for another
Timidly, the words of avarice, to exact poise for life
Keeping any lip of resolve, we are the kindred to bother...

Wiser like a bird of conscience, that has seen the deed
Of virtue in slowing motion and character, adroitly
See the us of callous voices, we know for a souls to lead
"Spirit's without a kinder glance, and its possible loyalty..."

Wiser for knowing a wiser form, we have committed
To decision's of reality, we know can few the least
Life far away, seeing the drive of purpose under it's nose, whitted
With the claim of all, is more than enough of a care, love eaches
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2022
Immaculate perception
its vision so pure
Beyond all deception
adroitly demurred
A birth without legacy
an orphan unnamed
Judgment abandoned
—redemption proclaimed

(Dreamsleep: September, 2022)
Asleep in their nests
birds dreaming out loud
Just outside his window
new questions aroused
The moonlight not finished
what it started before
The church clothes still hanging
on the back of the door
What once he thought ended
returning again
What never befriended
new searching begins
The glass in the parlor’s
long myopic hall
Illuminates squalor
and all he recalls
The ringing alarm
signals all bets are off
As the birds start to sing
of eternity’s cost
The revelers revel
the sanguine proclaim
The church starts to fill
and they’re calling his name
Any proof in the pudding
has curdled and soured
As the chalice gets cleaned
and the vision devours
The mood is enhanced
and wine slowly drips
The light through the stained glass
distorted in bits
The reasons no matter
alone as before
And sanity worships
death closing the door
His dress shirt went on
white starched and unblessed
The sermon made ready
for those at behest
And what might he offer
where prisoners hide
Salvation most proffered
when funded by lies
The eyes looking back
fixed silent and low
The eyes looking back
from pews far below
Surrounded by neighbors
and men who’re once bold
His eyes were then only
but thirteen years old
The distance seemed fatal
the distance seemed slim
But now looking up
it was all about him
To one then so young
and so new and so fresh
Still wanting to believe
in not leaving the nest
Surrounded by elders
deceivers and friends
Dressed in his finest
his hair slicked on end
His eyes remain down
as his thoughts decontruct
His face never changed
as the sermon ramped up
“And what must the youth
think of me on this day”
The Vicar’s thoughts looming
praying mantis to prey
The height differential
the power sublime
The stairs leading up
for the blind then to climb
And once at the top
all so distant below
And once at the top
nothing new left to know
The birds dare not enter
the sparrow or dove
The belfry stark empty
devoid of all love
The peacock dismembered
in colors of blight
The peacock remembered
in times that were bright
The hand bills are placed
at the end of each pew
A message designed
for only the few
Caught up in the fable
caught up in the lie
To burn down the manger
lambs scream as they fry
The church social breakfast
has started out back
Hoping for: “Great sermon Parson
had to hold my tears back”
But the truth knows no teller
but what’s told in the end
Whose message stays mired
where all messages end
Belonging to no-one
to him least of all
But forever himself
as he must heed the call
The blamer blasphemer
the architect *****
Silent screams from the pews
that they need something more
And in silence he struggles
his collars’ too tight
For clerics who bombast
portend and then fright
The moral unlettered
the reason unschooled
The soul when unfettered
no one left to rule
He knew the time short
few stairs left to climb
That boy once malingered
to always remind
To start at the beginning
to restart at the end
To start where he stopped
as a stranger again
Overpowering reluctance
consumes him today
And with cryptic delusion
he parry’s and feigns
Beget not begotten
claiming unto himself
All virtue forgotten
all feeling unfelt
If it mattered whenever
if it mattered just once
The parson calls out
to approach and exeunt
Reversing his trust
shouting but to himself
“Betray now adroitly”
this ice cube to melt
Benedictions unburning
inside the unhost
All tides are returning
last turkey to roast
The *** is left thickening
ruination sublime
Intention most wicked
coming only from mind
The cowards stay victim
the bravest rejoice
A knave neath the roundtable
never his choice
The bend in the circumstance
the straightening lie
The clue that was missing
the unquestioned reply
Walk up to the pulpit
three steps that don’t end
The pride and the fury
pontificates rend
Looking out at the parishioners
their eyes staring down
He knows without speaking
rivers crossed, bridges down
As he takes his last breath
speaks his last final words
What once was a boy
separates from the herd
He steps down, turns and leaves
without once looking back
The parson stabbed fatally
his parsonage wracked
The breakfast is ransacked
left plundered and frayed
The devout are heard neighing
like a horse without hay
Heading straight down the lane
neither bowed nor *****
No breakfast for him
celebration dissects
Walking in through the back door
his Aunty Ruth smiles
Asking, “Is everything all right”
you’ve been gone quit awhile”
He says: “Everything’s fine
as his father distills
And closing the window
say’s: “I’m feeling a chill”
He walks up 13 stairs
and sits down on the bed
Looking straight up above him
childish images dead
Asleep before dark
in a dream meets his peace
Knowing surrounded by doom
he must tomorrow retreat
He is up before dawn
and back out on the lane
One sack over his shoulder
one orphan to claim
The walk to the harbor
is rocky and steep
His gait ever steadfast
a promise to keep
Signing onto the first ship
that’s ready to sail
Setting a course still uncharted
in a sea of travail
The clouds getting darker
the waves though they fall
His soul is on fire
his spirit on call
With the ship looming outward
beyond sight of land
His future to clear
his mission at hand
That first day on board
and first night below deck
Were the first that had ever
held him safe in their net
With dawn’s light he climbed
to the crow’s nest above
And said ‘Thank You” to providence
vowing his love
And he sat there for hours
his past to enshroud
New horizons were calling
— he never so proud

(Oregon Inlet: June, 2003)
Professed paean pronounced
and adroitly produced
upon spirit of deceased
named Boyce Brandon Harris.

First year anniversary since
cremains distributed across four winds
his soul remains alive within me.

Impressed upon mine consciousness
birthdate announcing home birth
April 9th 1929, my father
gasped his first breath of air
head populated with black curly locks,
when he uttered that initial blare,
nor preschool instructors extant
to teach him building blocks
inherent in double helix strand,
paternal grandfather (mine)
designed many a fancy chair
passed along blueprint
pertaining to curious lad
forever challenging himself to dare.

Though me dada gone with the wind
well nigh three hundred sixty five days
impossible mission to forget being pinned
with profound grief now sorrowful phase
diminished, nevertheless vague upbringing
regarding late father roughly limned
especially recalling dada's mien ways.

Him biological circumstance found
being youngest of three offspring
and second ably linkedin heir
whose inquisitiveness found him
roaming (courtesy donning roller skates)
Manhattan island far and near
plus or minus penchant
with science and mathematics
intelligent quotient in stratosphere
those mental cogs, wheels and gear
found those piercing black eyes to peer
way beyond New York City skyline.

Demise of him who helped beget me
softened harsh rebukes figuratively rained
upon noggin of yours truly
sole son wishes father understood
my psychological maelstrom
flush with monsters under boyhood bed,
and voices inside traumatized head.

Latent smarts did create career
path, which whipsawed him
thru multitudinous exotic places he did dare
to traverse – from Korean front
to General Electric where
he secured employment
as mechanical engineer
within aerospace, industry

completed my academic projects with flair,
who essentially earned me passing grade
just by the chin whisker hair
and by physical might,
I wished he served as bodyguard
when kids did jeer
me quiet skinny boy, who felt intimidated
when bullies spewed names with a leer.
Michael Marchese Nov 2022
Back in this educate
State of mind
Earning
The title of writer
Inciter of learning
More mutually
Concomitantly
Guessing
The answers
The questions
The overall lessons
I plan so haphazardly
Somehow still getting it
Through to them casually
Just keep it simple
Be honest
Be there
And adroitly instill
This weird skill that I share
David Hilburn Nov 2020
Hope with a practiced eye...?
Fall's and discipline in a universal tussle
With composure, to signify the kind
Told in certain language, are we a future in gains, to well...

To share in the know, a tale of unity
Spare to us, adroitly passing the recollected time
With the still churning fate and done, a reflection's key?
Was a heralded candor, the truth in candid trying?

A new covenant; a new hug...?
Depression is such a finality loosed, a race with bidden shares
Meant to urge the next of kin, the lengths I took to love
Are, a harrowing heed, that has come to these with our cares...

Mention in a row, of could, the name be yours and mine?
Showing the sorts of life and liberty, does a lot expect about a tear?
Waiting on the course, the view, of a righting mind?
Going through the motions to understand a whole reply, with the notion of fear?

Ten fingers to explain an unction of kind, yet the share of ordeals?
And else, the spare timidity to grasp a duress's idea...
Thrown the light of compliment, and the adage of politics, a future war?
With but a universally given past, that has a help for decency's freedom, begun?
What if the joker was yours for the right pride?

— The End —