Is such a big and impossible to miss step for a scribbler
of poetry free poems to trip over.
A step that cannot be ignored, except consciously and conscientiously.
Such a person as a scribbler of poetry less poems would be a person who cannot tell the difference between truth and truthfulness.
A person whose sole raison d,etre in pretending to be a poet is their lifelong angst in being unable to escape from being under the control of  their mind and its operating system --the Conditioned Identity.
The Conditioned Identity,which is the facetious and morally dishonest "I am a poet" mask that is the consciously adopted Conditioned Identity--the operating system for the Mind.
In the great scheme of things becoming just another member of the human GroupMind--one who doesn't count--not even on the fingers of one hand-.
One,who,in the grand scheme of things,never has counted and never will count-call them countless.
Shadows that flicker and dim on the walls of the Prison of political, racial,national,familial and religious conformity
And these worthless scribblers of poetry less poems do have an all consuming conditioned habit  of consciously ignoring truthfulness and integrity and substituting pathetic sub-teen lower middle class emo whinging "truth"--about their "art" and "insight"and "vision"and their "truth"--always their worthless "truth".
Sitting and mourning the fulfilling love that always evades them and always will evade them--unless they let go of the conditioned identity and the Mind--consigning them to the dustbin of history--where they rightfully belong.
Angst ridden whingers all--in love with their image in the mirror of Minds oh so believable deception.
Scribbling about a conditional possessive love that would have been a valueless truth but never can be the essence of truthfulness.
A conditional possessive love that never was and never will be unconditional and non-possessive.
Whinging about nothing more than conditional love and a truthfulness that never can be for them--- as we see openly here and there and everywhere there are scribblers of poetry less "poetry" who use sites such as this to scribble their pretentious infantile nonsense.
Poverty of values and integrity,orphaned from the Isness of the Universe, children of worthless technological consumerism and followers of false oligarchic hopes.
With their greedy gobs open for any crumbs falling from the rich peoples tables,like baby chicks in the nest--feed me feed me they screech.
Colluding with like minded betrayers of truthfulness,groupminds of
limp wristed bombastic poseurs.
Deluding themselves by babbling media made inane celebrities
empty insights and twisted conclusions--purveyors of puerile pettiness.
Oligarchic media celebrities noted only for the illusions between their ears,and the beguiling way they collude with each other to delude themselves.
Ludare!
Oh how they love to play mind games
Lives spent colluding with these babbling worthless celebrities who know the price of everything and the value of nothing,
Pompous posturing pretentious pissants of aesthetic poverty.
Bound together into a worldwide consumers Groupmind,
persuaded by perverts of PR into believing in the Illusion of Wealth and Demockery that the Oligarchy sells.
To step over the truthfulness threshold is,indeed, to  leave behind their
security blankets of "truth and beauty and revealed knowledge"
and the concomitment meaningless verbiage about "veracity" and "existence".
Shallow and unrequited attempts to own another that the weak and unwanted call "love".
Stomping through the quagmire of conditional love
up to their necks in the **** of consumer garbage.
The Conditional love of possessing another and grasping at thin air
as they submerge slowly in the seas of righteous stupidity .
poets cling to their misconceptions religiously,
poets cling to their ignorance avidly,
poets cling to their proto-fascist politics squeamishly,
with each word and stanza that they write.
Pouring out such pleasant and elegant and flowery and "deep"
words and verses(rhyming or not) that,at their core,
have only one meaning and aim.
Which is!.
To divert and confuse their readers with the"shallow beauty"
of endless strings of meaningless associated but fine sounding words .
To create a groupmind for their poetry business products.
Admire me--buy my product--join my groupmind--eulogise me,
let me rip off your energy--I need your praise,I need your lifes energy
gimme your money honey!.
The Publishing Oligarchy will bestow rewards and honours,
medals and diplomas--critiques fit only to wipe your **** on.
Book sales and the summer Poetry festival circuit--reciting and signing scribbles of narcissism--casting lecherous eyes over dripping **** or stiff wobbling **** in the adoring crowd of sycophants.
The  Media will fawn and adulate and cast its sly net
to entangle your desires in ---infamy awaits.
Come admire me and my use of other poets stolen words,
my criminality in even daring to think the word "poet" has any value.
These are my words about my inexperience and unknowingness they scream possessively in jaundiced teeny remembrance.
Remembrance of mediocre middle class homes and attitudes
of ingrained ignorance and wilful imagined self victimisation.
Eating societies poisoned dishes--.
Serve me up a burger of roasted babies on toast
from Vietnam--live on Channel Whatever.
Or chargrilled peasants from Afghanistan
with breathless commentary from
our "reporter on the spot".
Or homeless mental wrecks from the streets
of any Amerikan or World city big or small,
trailing acerbic criticism from the immoral majority.
Or dead celebrity  consumer junkies in 5 star hotels
complete with PR handouts and **** licking "friends"
positioning themselves for increased sales.
Or the children of the Oligarchs with their "I" newspapers
and inbuilt fascist attitudes.
Who spend their shallow lives hoping for the kind
of meaningless and worthless Honours and Validation
from those that do not have honour or validity..
Or the not just lame but crippled duck presidents with their finely crafted speeches that say nothing but I am a beard wearing  failure,
looking forward to penning lies and calling it a frank memoir
while holding out my hands  for the Oligarchies pennies.
Can anyone tell me where to get a bucket of truthfulness?.
A glass of honesty?.
A tumbler full of veracity?.
A beaker of back breaking honest labour?.
Can anyone tell me where I can find
a peaceful man or woman,of any of the 5 colours.
Not those merely observing a Cease-Fire
while they rearm their weapons of the lies of beauty and truth.
Oligarchy allowed social commentary.
Is there just one decent truthful man or woman out there?.
Judging by the world Id say not.
No Id say not.
Not.
There Ive said it.

www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk

I feel his eyes on me
Whenever I cross the room.
It is mostly when there are others
Present and we must share ourselves,
Expended over people

And places. The spaces
Before we fall into our wine stained
Non-marital bed. The grape blood reminds me
Of my own. On my own, fledgling ******* and acne,
Elaborately false *******

Where I would never have my fill.

A child-man I forgot.
Or remember only as a token,
Cardboard textured orange peel
In a breast pocket never worn. I forget
Most everyone

Now that he is
In my life. He obliterates
All else like light pollution.
Not of fluorescent neon or slogans
But an exploding star

That dims all else
In my peripheries. I am
Diminished also in his love,
Both wholesomely and then in a sense
Where I lose my ‘I’.

It is in his shadow
Where I live. Small comet
Hidden in the black of velvet,
Licked by the spit of his flames
That scald me

And bathe me
In equal measure.

I am more than this
I know. Or guess. His tailor hands
Though, are efficient and caring. They
Do not create me, but he threads himself
Into my sides

And drops a stitch
Only to adulate the rhythm
When he enters me. When he enters me
I become burgeoned and full and blood fills
The rusted roadways

That shine blue
Through my pasty prism.
He finishes. A gloom fills me. Not
A gloom, more of a nothing and he is
An obliterated star once more

And I his aftermath.
He has killed me with a kindness,
A ghost only when witnessed, kissed.
I have long since forgotten whether I have
Been taken prisoner

Or gave myself up.

I dote on you because I love you
I adulate you because of what you do, to me
I'll canonize you all the day through
No, I deify you, because of what you do, to me

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i wish you didn't
exist
i wish someone with such a unique personality
was merely fiction
i wish that prepossessing face of yours
wasn't real

i wish i could
turn the handles of the clock
in reverse
so that i would've
never met you

why did you have to casually
saunter into my life
and fill me with felicity?
like it was nothing
like i was just another experience

and completely ignore me
and shut the door, our door
as if you were content with that
as if we were strangers again

i hate you
for making me
fall in love with you
sheerly, by being yourself
why couldn't you be
chicanery and lies

writing this makes me
want to talk to you
but at the same time
i want to ignore you
like you did to me
until the point
that i almost doubted
my very own existence

and i never thought that
i'd be doing this
because
i tried it once and failed
miserably
but this time
i'm determined
i will maim and forget
everything that you were once
worth to me

and the sad thing is
you probably won't even care
because there are so many
other people that adulate you
just like i do
you're probably used to
all of this doting

i should've known
before falling in
much too deep
into this dystopian nightmare

being in love
with someone that couldn't care
any less about you
makes you feel inexorably forlorn
and dense
and just worthless
so now i know what to do

i'll look back to this
every time you visit my reveries
i'm closing the doors
and they're going to stay shut
forever

Adulate the figure above,
allowing for hope and grandiosity to take hold.
In a mind so broken, it must crack to be restored.

I love him and i love him so much,
In him,i see stars and sunshine of love,
Lighting my heart day and night
Making my days pass fast
In him I see a loving man,kind hearted,
Actually all the good adjectives describe him  

Since i fell in love with him, the world stopped..
I fell into a new world with just two people
Him and i
Everyday,every second i want to remind him,
How lucky i am,
How happy he makes me feel,
How much i appreciate him,
And the hows are endless....

I burst with love just with the thought of my love
I feel the red hot flames and my heart skips with joy
I feel safe in his arms anytime he hugs me,
Even just a little touch from him tingles me..
When he comes close to me,i feel his breath enter my soul,
Whenever you tell me those sweet words,
I get chills up my spine
I trully adulate this man
Him and only him is the love of my life
Its your love I cherish, above everything

“For those of us who live at the esplanade,
Cold grows colder even as the days grow longer,
Fair youths beneath the trees thou canst not leave,            
Bare essential alone for those that cannot indulge,

Vapor light buffing dreams to ones doorways,
Looking inward and outward as once before,
After seeking one now can indulge in the future,  
Vigilance of succubus in the minds of our youth,

For those of us who were imprinted with fear
As things in need of doing go undone,
Homeric of old anxieties beacon in the night,
As this faint apparition looms before us in fears,

With that and buried ambitions rise up afore one,
These have peregrination the coldest lands and sea,  
Although we ingest again or feel the adulate of love,  
We are aghast once loved will fade as we are alone,

Preyed epics of old anxieties beacon into the night,
Those of us seem not be heard nor best if we were silent,
Linger long a sacrifice may creates a stone in our hearts”

“For those of us who live at the esplanade,
Cold grows colder even as the days grow longer,
Fair youths beneath the trees thou canst not leave,            
Bare essential alone for those that cannot indulge,

Vapor light buffing dreams to ones doorways,
Looking inward and outward as once before,
After seeking one now can indulge in the future,  
Vigilance of succubus in the minds of our youth,

For those of us who were imprinted with fear
As things in need of doing go undone,
Homeric of old anxieties beacon in the night,
As this faint apparition looms before us in fears,

With that and buried ambitions rise up afore one,
These have peregrination the coldest lands and sea,  
Although we ingest again or feel the adulate of love,  
We are aghast once loved will fade as we are alone,

Insurmountable homeric of old anxieties beacon into the night,
Those of us seem not be heard nor best if we were silent,
Linger long a sacrifice may create a stone in our hearts”
      By Andrew Guzaldo March 1,/2021 ©   #199

Thou Ethiopian muse of mine: attend.
Now let my words wound souls and after, mend.
It’s time to slay some golden calves and knock
Some gods from off their pedestals. Let’s rock.
(I’d like my veal in gold-dust, with a side
Of injured Afrocentric racial pride.)

Moses cut an oppressor down, who bled…
Moses buried him in the sand, then fled.
(Every ****** son of Adam bleeds out red.)
Midian offered shelter to the killer.
I hope you like my prefatory filler . . .

Remember in the desert how the tribes
Put up with Moses’ scolding diatribes,
Yet quickly fell for Aaron’s baby bull?
They paid for it, the half and then in full
By wandering around for forty years
And drinking bitter waters (Moses’ tears).
They even whined about his sultry bride;
Not Zipporah—his later, darker ride.
Let Ethiopia rise. She still is blameless
And Moses’ second wife here lauded nameless.

Discerning Israel means: there once were slaves.
Egyptians know the God of Hebrews saves.
Yehudah is no more the chosen clan
Than Joseph is old Pharaoh’s right-hand man.
And who is freed from *******, and who’s not
Should make us pause—observe . . . then think a lot.

Some tribes are pale-faced, others darker still.
And none can claim to grasp God’s perfect will.
Let **** haters rise—and leave the room.
Black racists too, be gone; and I’ll resume
My question: who’s oppressed, and who’s a grifter . . .
And how a curse descends, and what’s the lifter.
Perhaps you are a Hebrew . . . yet, some curse
Is evident in how you make things worse
By raging over long-past wrongs and rights
(Passive-aggressive lovers’ quarrel with whites…)
While Indo-Europeans watch the fun,
All Asia sighs, and prays God’s will be done.

Noah’s second grandson, Canaanite cow,
Oh golden calf, toward whom we’re forced to bow,
You sure can DANCE, and jump, and chant bad rhymes,
Cashing that blank check for slavery’s crimes.
The state commemorates your orator;
Content of character must come later (?)
You crack us up. Pure abomination
Promoted as artistic creation.
Your tag, your name—like ***** sprayed on walls.
Your neighborhood? Wherever garbage falls.
You’re born in freedom. Now you sample beats
Enslaved to violent nonsense in the streets.
That silly slang, new sneakers, dumb fashions
Showcase well your underlying passions.
Egypt’s kings? More like bad dangerous clowns
Revealing thuggish souls in sullen frowns;
Slurring unintelligibly your words
Which leave your lips like Lucifer’s own turds.
You’re laughable in your provocation;
Begging us to adulate your nation.
We must (MUST we?) celebrate your culture
And venerate what spawns from sinful nature.

You say you have it bad, you’re still enchained;
The Civil War unfought and and nothing gained . . .
You claim to be oppressed this day and age?
It seems you’re just excusing childish rage.
Go liberate yourself then, loudmouth slave.
Prove to the world that JESUS cannot SAVE.

Victims exist, others play the Race Card,
And seek a foe to blame when life gets hard.
Or worse: demand race-based reparations
Lining bank accounts with their frustrations.
Such money has been ransomed, in the form
Of public schools and welfare. Bring your storm
Of virtue-signal cries that I’m a bigot;
But spades will be called in spades—so DIG it:
Hope you can keep those Liberals on your side,
To con them as you take them for a ride.
Don’t compromise their cluelessness. Stay woke
To keep us laughing at your ethnic joke:
Ratcheting up the destructive drama.
Hate this whiteness? My reply: Yo’ mama.
For any son can knock up any daughter
Regardless of the racial myths they taught her;
We are one species. Sorry, but it’s true.
(Wish it were not, observing some of you…)

Muse of mine, Kushitic damsel, don’t leave.
You’ve heard me out thus far. I still believe
That there’s a remnant of Man’s fallen race
Who yet can be restored by God’s own grace
Regardless of their smarts, or style, or hue.
Fear GOD and live . . . for such were some of you.

How swiftly they proudly ascend
Towering peaks to no end
Cragged and seemingly peerless
They remain steadfast and fearless

An alp, a ridge, a spiring horn
Nary a soul should feel forlorn
A majestic silhouette in the sky
Billowing clouds drifting by

Changing colors to and fro
Waiting for that lavender alpenglow
Could their be a greater reason
To observe the changes of the new season

Snow caps vanish as the days grow longer
Their beauty within to only wax stronger
Reaching new heights, ever daunting
Sends a chill, sometimes haunting

Picturesque may even understate
But truly one can only adulate
For natures way is not for us to perceive
Take it all in and just believe

Everytime, in any place, when fully attentive
Recognizable sequences trigger every move I make
Same person, different face
Donations of my soul restore what lacks of yours
Some time if not every time, you adulate as intensely in return
Problematically, no matter dire, versions of you net me back
My wonder of how is hardly fathomable currently
I just see you

noun: hero worship, excessive admiration for someone;
in ancient Greece the worship of superhuman heroes;
verb: hero-worship; admire someone excessively,
idolization, adulation, admiration, lionization;
"the hero worship of his fans soon became unsettling to him"
noun
reverence, veneration, adoration, glorification,
glory, exaltation, devotion, praise, thanksgiving,
homage, honor, magnification, service,
religious rite, prayer, praise, devotion,
religious observance, admiration, adulation,
idolization, lionization, hero worship, adoration;
verb
revere, reverence, venerate, pay homage to,
honor, adore, praise, pray to, glorify, exalt,
extol, hold dear, cherish, treasure, esteem,
adulate, idolize, deify, hero-worship, lionize,
overpraise, follow, look up to, put on a pedestal,
laud, magnify, hero-worship, revere, idolize