"agencies" poems
I used to feel ashamed to be put in the category of:
Illegal, immigrant, undocumented,
Or simply not a U.S Citizen
I’ve been oppressed and rejected from:
Jobs, schools and programs,
Because I’m not a red-blooded American
But through God I learned that I should
Be proud of who I am and what country I come from
And that makes me free
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have God
My life is worthwhile
Because I’m His child
I can’t contain myself any more
I’m tired of being broke and poor
I’m going to get that full ride
Into a 4 year college
I’m going to get that steady job security with:
A steady paycheck, that’s re-locatable and it’s fun
I’m tired of lying, hiding, and scamming
To get into organizations, staffing agencies and jobs
That would help my life be healthier
I dislike the fact that you have to
Get married to get a green card
I hate using a fake social security number
Or tax ID on applications that ask for it
I don’t like making up excuses about
Why I don’t qualify for financial aid or unemployment
But I’m going to man up and keep moving forward
It doesn’t matter how much:
Pain, anxiety, frustration, bad attitudes,
Disappointment, confusion, heart break
Or put downs I get in life
I’ll keep fighting the good fight with all my heart
And I’m going to be honest even if hurts me
Because I still have choices
I still have options
As long as I try, I can smile
As long as I have my God,
My life is worthwhile
Because I am His child
By Shannon Pollard
© December 2012
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 9:57 PM UTC
Terrorism has mushroomed
all across the world.
Greenery here is not less,
some terror must be unfurled.
I 've heard that some desi
terror outfit has taken birth.
More shadowy than shadow,
their secrets difficult to unearth.
Help is required from security
agencies of developed land.
There they lock up terrorists for
years without trial on remand.
They've trained dogs to smell
terrorists before they become one.
Our country is developing fast,
soon it will be second to none.
Full use of the cyberspace
this local foxy terror group makes.
In this virtual world whose
identity is real? whose fake?
This tricksy group makes
bombs sophisticated, smart.
It targets selected only,
suddenly before they can depart.
But few unintended ones died in blast,
must be suicide bombers, Indeed!
Terrorists don't understand political
equations, what is the need?
Now our Police catches
terrorists just minutes after the blast.
Their must be some-kind of relief
for citizens shocked, aghast.
My little brother eats my head,
wants to catch a tiger alive.
Jocularly I advised it is animal dangerous,
flesh and bone it can rive.
Instead we can catch a cat and
with continuous torture and grill
we can make it confess to be a tiger,
with third degree surely it will.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
Maverick ex-cop (Green Beret /Navy Seal /SAS/Ranger)
Twiddle of the fingers to crack a 64 bit hexadecimal code
Shot but can still beat up bad people and run
15 people firing automatic weapons and they all miss
Database that searches the planets population in 2 seconds
And has photos of their children and plans of their building
Regardless of the crime scene sample, always a rare element that pinpoints location
Car chase where a truck can keep up with a Ducati motorbike
Organisations that only employ attractive people in lead roles
Ugly people are tech specialists sometimes allowed to be ‘quirky’
Even the uglies are attractive people disguised with glasses and bad hairstyles
‘I dream of genie’ gendre were they flirt but never get it on, unless it’s a hospital series
Watchable, funny programs that always succumb to sloppy sentimentality
High schools complete with intolerance, marginalisation, bullying, and hell on earth,
The most disturbing and darkest crime sent to titillate mid evening family viewing
Endless humiliation for fatties, chefs, performers, builders, restaurateurs, and troubled teens
Dysfunctional law enforcement agencies that never work together under any circumstances
Enough, if we need this thick coating of unreality, perhaps its time to switch off?
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 5:34 PM UTC
Questions Please
Put up a question please
Throw me a question please
Question, any question
Burning or sensational
big or small or silly
easy or tough or absurd
hypothetical or factual
All questions are invited.
Only and only questions
No Answers at all
As I already have answers
I have answers to all the questions
that ever existed, but ceased to exist today.
I have the answers to prevailing questions
that are making us crazy day by day
I even have the answers to the questions
which are still in the future's belly
waiting to be born one day
in this beautiful and ugly world
Questions please
All sorts of questions
May be from geography or philosophy
Or from religion to defence studies
It may be from medical science or history
Or from space research too
Animal husbandry is no taboo
Questions on skydiving are also welcome
Politics is my all-time favourite
although I can answer sports or adventure
Questions on corruption are also solicited
You can ask on oceanography or calligraphy too
I know everything, literally everything
but neither I am 'Google' nor 'Bing'
I am not even 'Duck Duck Go'
nor I claim to be 'Baidu'
I guessed your question.
You are wondering – "Who am I?"
It's very-very simple Man!
I am a nasty spokesperson from the ruling party
I may be found mostly in television debates
as a panelist, as a debator, as a joker
as a disturbing element, as a liar
as a person making hue and cries
You may or may not like my answers,
but, please like me, please love me
Raise slogans for me, Praise me
Make me famous, make me a celebrity
But even if you dislike me
I don't care, I have my media
I have my own followers
I also own a troll army
I train them perfectly
I pay them heavily
I spend too much on
News media and Social media
I have my own trustworthy mob
who is always ready for violence
anytime and anywhere
at any cost whatsoever
Beware, I am from the ruling party
I inherit a complete readymade system
of Investigating agencies, Ready to book anyone
on false and frivolous grounds.
And it will take years to prove innocence
Innocence may be proved, may be disproved
This also depends on Money, Power and Links
Or the nasty arithmetic of alliance with us in future
So if you still chose to dislike me
It's your choice, but wait
I can still become a minister
Or even a prime minister
I have the quality to lure voters
I have the answers to all the questions
That ever existed or are existing
Or that are stilling waiting to be born.
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 2:16 AM UTC
I've recently put on some weight
after being 95 pounds and twiggy for years.
I hate myself for the weight.
I see the past me and not even recognize myself.
I feel like I weigh too much to be beautiful, that the clothes I love to wear were made for 95 pound me.
I've morphed into someone I do not know yet.
My chest too big
My stomach the shape of a cereal box instead of an hourglass
My big hip-dips
My scars and my stretch mark.
I'm not beautiful to the modeling agencies
Or the people that run the tv.
I do not see people that look like present me,
only ones that look like past me.
I'm healthier now and happier,
but I cannot help but envy the skeleton,
The lost me.
The sad me.
The past me.
I hate that I envy her.
I wish I could accept the new me,
The alive me.
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
Commercial's playing in office about A.D.D treatment drugs making
some boys grow female breats. What in the hell and what's up with that?
Yo FCC! Is better to have a freaking disease or embarrassing side affects?
Something took my mind off who I've been thinking about for weeks,
even if it is ***** ups by agencies allowing drugs on the market
without enough clinical studies such as, you take meds and you grow lady parts.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
(Sung to Where Have All the Flowers Gone)
Where have all the assassins gone,
I'm just asking,
Where have all the hit-men gone,
It wasn't long ago.
Where have all the psychos gone,
Ones like Sirhan Sirhan,
Or a crazy American,
Better still, a red Russian.
Where have all the agencies gone,
I'm just asking,
The MI5, the CIA,
KGB, Mossad;
Where have covert actions gone,
When there's a guys like loonie Kim Jong;
A psychopathic American,
A dictator with no where to run.
Where have all our heroes gone,
I'm just asking;
Where have all our leaders gone,
Not so long ago.
Where have all fine Presidents gone,
Biden was the last good one;
When will we ever learn,
Ego-maniacs can't govern.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
In your past, this past
they weren't valued
no one said they were members of the family
what walks on four legs and is furry and cute is only
to last as long as nature intended and then to be disposed of
Veal calves in crates, taken from mothers on the day of their birth
to make more milk for humans, horse slaughter for glue
and foi gras, ducks and geese locked in a vice grip of their cages
metal tubes rammed down their throats and force fed until a liver disease
develops, painful, but given no respite
and served as a delicacy and
fur coats from animals skinned alive right here in America
still when mink farms are outlawed in the Netherlands and
two million dogs and cats skinned in China every year not to mention
other horrors and no one cared or looked their way because they are
only animals, and voiceless and helpless and no one cared to give them
a voice or advocacy
"that's why they're there, for our use, people still say" who profit from an industry
of suffering
And today, there are people who try to give them a voice and there are veterinarians who will try to help you with your member of the family, as he suffers, in his old age
a bag of fluids hangs from my exercise bike, and intermixed with my medications
is the painkiller and anti-nausea pills for my dear old friend
whose pancreas is failing
and father, this is foreign to you
you pretend it is a crime
silence is the only thing connecting us now
I hope you enjoyed your last barrage of unkind words
I think you did. The saddest thing I've learned about people like you
is
you feel better after such an attack, to see me reeling, bleeding on the ground
and you feel better, calmer and purged.
A kind of misbegotten peace settles over you
an exploitive peace from another's tears and pain
And yes, father, there were no agencies to give a voice to children
when you were young
no CPS, to aid my nine year old ***** friend
as a code of silence enveloped her attacker
to protect him, the one who destroyed her
But today there is a small brigade of a modern kind of love
to give a voice, protection, soothing to the ones who can
only suffer at our hands and not protect themselves from
our wrath and exploitation
and it is a better world for that, father
for my furry pancreatic friend and for any other
nine year old **** victims here
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 12:38 PM UTC
Arise then...women of this day!
Arise, all women who have hearts!
Whether your baptism be of water or of tears!
Say firmly:
"We will not have questions answered by irrelevant agencies,
Our husbands will not come to us, reeking with carnage,
For caresses and applause.
Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn
All that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.
We, the women of one country,
Will be too tender of those of another country
To allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs."
From the voice of a devastated Earth a voice goes up with
Our own. It says: "Disarm! Disarm!
The sword of ****** is not the balance of justice."
Blood does not wipe our dishonor,
Nor violence indicate possession.
As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil
At the summons of war,
Let women now leave all that may be left of home
For a great and earnest day of counsel.
Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.
Let them solemnly take counsel with each other as to the means
Whereby the great human family can live in peace...
Each bearing after his own time the sacred impress, not of Caesar,
But of God -
In the name of womanhood and humanity, I earnestly ask
That a general congress of women without limit of nationality,
May be appointed and held at someplace deemed most convenient
And the earliest period consistent with its objects,
To promote the alliance of the different nationalities,
The amicable settlement of international questions,
The great and general interests of peace.
2.7k
I wonder if they're happy.
They sure do seem so.
They're always talking about stealing their daddy's Jaguars and having beer blasts and getting in to fights and being bros and getting tan and buying new swimsuits and getting a call from different modeling agencies and crashing cars and smoking cigarillos and drinking fancy wine and going to their beach house and deciding between Harvard and Yale or Porsche and Mustang and did we win the football game and making new friends and oh my God Stacy actually said that and dude, I totally ****** her and my math teacher is such a ***** and my parents are putting me into boarding school and check out my new Jordans and did you watch the sunset last night?
I don't know if they're having fun, but it sure seems like it.
*I wonder if they're having fun. It sure seems like it.
They're always talking about hitch hiking to the next city over and going to shows and drinking PBR and sneaking out at night and yeah dude, that party was sick and my tumblr is so famous right now and check out my new denim jacket and smoking **** and getting in to fights and lifting cigarettes from stores and Austin and Katie slept together and Kyle broke edge and I'm still working at McDonalds and yeah I'm still driving my '93 Ford Ranger and smoking hookah and watching Mean Girls and yeah I love the ocean and check out my new Kicks and did you watch the sunset last night?
I don't know if they're having fun, but it sure seems like it.*
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 10:22 PM UTC
Traditionalism is what they follow,
Prehistoric is how they live,
Caring none about real human beings!
They depend on human protection,
Yet they pray the lifeless idols & establishments,
Statues & religion they call them and waste money on them.
They would do their own important work,
Tell me to better stop writing these blasphemous poems,
Praying, remembering the lord & idol-worshiping is all they care about.
People like them won't donate directly to the poor,
They say that they put some money in the places of worship,
Idols - their idols is who they live for and survive by.
My telling this to my countrymen or anybody in the world is vain,
They would still go to on or more places of worships,
Think that it is not idol worshiping and again not serve the needy directly.
They can only criticize me for writing blasphemous words of pain,
They would even fight with or **** me if they got hold of me,
But they won't stop idol-worshiping and start serving the poor directly themselves.
A Messiah calls the idol-worshipers,
To avoid going to places of worship,
To come and serve the real world,
To realize that what you are losing,
To help you realize the value of humanity,
To make you realize the value of the real world.
If you're not scared of change then join me in this new religion,
Here we don't worry about God/Ishwar/Bhagwan/Rabb,
But we do things that make The Power Happy,
Do social service and cleaning their houses,
Help the needy monetarily/practically,
Instead of just donating somewhere,
Shun donations to the places of worship,
Go to the needy personally or parcel them happiness,
Make sure that the courier service/other establishment you use is 100% genuine.
Avoid those agencies who are supposedly in one of the common names of The Power,
Hire a company/firm to actually make your donations reach the needy,
It'll be very helpful for the humanity which is prime & real,
Try this by whatever methods you find genuine,
You'll feel yourself elated & calm,
Take my word,
Seriously.
Apr 27, 2013
Apr 27, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
times are tough
more than ever;
bills come at the speed of bullets
taxes gather like summer flies
and debts ricochet against our walls;
the banks want more and more
but there's just air in our pockets
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
the jobs dry up and
the dollars dwindle into cents;
permanent becomes temp
and temp becomes non-existent;
full-time goes into part-time
and part-time into casual
and casual into zilch
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
nature conspires with the economy,
sweetheart:
she sends rains and fire and landslides;
she claws sands off the beaches and
all we have left are
government ******** and *******
who care a hoot about our fish and chips
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
time's not on our side either, sweetheart;
mind you, with mighty puffed cheeks
he blows H1N1 flu round the globe
and so sends people and customers away
and those who remain turn cheap and nasty
and all these pigs want are discounts and freebies
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
the collection agencies are knocking, dear -
it sounds much like the knock of death
in Beethoven's ninth;
the mortgage barbarians are on their horses
and they send writs and auction threats
and re-possessions
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
O hang on, sweetheart,
hang on tight:
many will fall, many will bleed
but those who hang on tight
and those who can love
those who can dream together
they will ride the nights out into clear day
hang on tight, baby -
keep your senses wide
for we're going on a roller-coaster ride;
scream as much
but just hang on tight, baby -
hang on for dear life
Oct 19, 2010
Oct 19, 2010 at 8:30 PM UTC
Presidential paramours sanctioned but not silenced.
Not to speak yet being heard, attorneys and agencies speaking on their behalf.
Everyone knows,
now that the election has passed.
Who would have cared anyway?
We know now that it doesn't matter, transgressions and despicable deeds never tarnish the orange luster.
Jul 31, 2018
Jul 31, 2018 at 4:07 PM UTC
A summer’s hand on bewildered torso chest,
her love: the best kept secret since their escape
to Brest that time in Spring,
Northwest France with its untamed waves lapping at the
hull of The Sea King in the harbour, half mast.
But with every try, harder than the last,
he did not respond to her see-through glass
appeals for an apology-
over two-hundred-and-seventy-minutes
wasted on the TGV back to Paris,
a holiday cut short by her wandering knees,
wide apart in another man’s apartment.
For money was passed in sweating palms
for a day’s encounter with her good looks and charms,
though the men never knew
about her man back at home,
designing the new tourist information
for a cheap weekend-stay in the heart of Rome.
What he bought to the marriage:
stability, safety, security and their baby.
What she bought to the marriage
mainly tears and daily anxiety.
But they both knew the complications
and the clauses of her contract,
agencies would delve deep into the contact’s history
to make sure they were legit,
but it never hid the fact that she had
intimate encounters in hotel honeymoon, champagne, new linen suites.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:04 AM UTC
Haywire.
While sabotaging agencies are corrupting,
I lie frozen,
Downloading how to translate
this brainwash without constantly erupting!
Haywire,
United Suits of America,
drug-guzzling, anti-christ
injecting poison in the fruits.
Wake to terror, bleed from pain,
get pushed from mankind,
from our freedom fighters’
propensities to feign.
Frequencies being altered,
from 432 to 440,
Unaware of the subtle control
they have taken of our
***** of corti.
Receptors are jarred
our balance mistaken,
slowly these trails are weakened,
and souls must awaken!
Rhythms of nature
being projected on a screen,
too safe to go outside,
we have become rotting cans
of packed sardines.
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 9:30 PM UTC
Your mind is your Icon
Aristotle knew
Alexander the Great went down in history will you and me too?
This new age is impure
lies and deception everywhere
doctors are liars
lawyers are liars
the US gov agencies are pussilanimous liars
Even marriage is a lie!
How many actually are happy?
Marriage = a grim era
(Anagram)
Relationships = phoniest liars
(Anagram)
I want a divorce = weird vacation
(Anagram)
(I'd rather take a weird vacation then live miserably in a grim era!)
The only true thing is the anagram
Prescriptions
=
Icon Strippers
When is the next Michael Jackson show?
D. Clare
Opinions vary...
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
Your subjectless Objects of capital, the agency bereft GDP drones, O! America,
They are spilled on the pavement, an upturned ice cream cone of discontent
puddled and lackadaisical, they fester beside the hydrant.
Your news agencies and malls, the damp dishrags of industry,
snagged on the nail of defenselessness and exploitation, only infect the wound.
Each mess of a person, walks through the sugary malaise of your suffering
dragging it on to the next in communal forbearing; its contagion, its disease
is so many cysts on the mind of those syrupy vacuoles for capital; the private,
malignant caverns of dewy-eyed trust in humanity, insipidly drawing the rancor to a boil,
without understanding a thing.
You pride yourself on much, without eyes for the condition of your people,
O! America.
People, shackled in your jails, are so many ideas bubbling as to the cruelty of your nature
punctured by the ignorance outside.
Draped in your obnoxious flag, the cites are as malicious as the countryside, toward life, toward knowledge.
You prop-up the price of their crops, the know-not-whys, who plunder the earth to prolong population growth and consciousness-decline.
America, you eradicate discontent with cattle cars, filled with questioning life forms, gasing our minds and burning our bodies with your arrogance.
Like a popcorn bag steaming in the microwave; you have been left alone too long, and have developed a flame-- an inextinguishable flame of reason.
You have been disavowed too LITTLE.
You must not be allowed to expand any further, lest the impoverished bag of flesh which is mankind will burst.
But still you stagnate, until your violence curdles with drones and bombs patrolling our synapses.
Our brains digest your violence against us and **** it out with an abused dialect of greed and hate.
Then you ask us only that we eat from your refuse heap of burnt kernels from the “truth” of market economy.
You taste like cancer. You rot the mouth of competent men, and satiate the anxieties of those who would turn against you-- with a refreshing ice cream cone of absentmindedness
dropped on the ground and melting.
But the stains you made will always taint the sidewalk of man.
Jun 20, 2011
Jun 20, 2011 at 12:26 AM UTC
what's the problem with conditional? the binary, if, then, if it obtains at all then agencies that rage in me are illusory potentially, and free will threatened by the counter-factual? it seems more unlikely than the vat i'm floating in.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 12:11 PM UTC
The national pride is nullified by the constant buzz of shores
being broken down and beaten with patrol boats
scouring the waves for lame boats carrying
malnourished passengers to a land of plenty.
With searchlights and stern rugged faces
blue uniformed and well fed, border patrol
scout out the weary travellers braving the high seas
and sharks to find a safe heaven in some hidden cove.
Pest control is serious business. Unlucky to be caught
and housed in centres with rationed food and worn clothes
herded into bare camps, often deported back
to home turf, the pest control cycle continues.
Take heed. A nation is built on pests., working hard, saving
every cent, running against the clock, against government agencies, starved and poor, defeated in justice, welfare,
community, papers, education and livelihood, slinking through
alleyways of paper networks, low paid, often beaten and bruised
packed in housing crates, stacked storeys high, nation building
begins at the journeys first step away from regimes too busy amassing wealth and wonder for themselves.
Nation builders are the pests you want. The pests you spend your money to keep away from your own backyard
for a vote for safety.
Pin up a country that did not grow without these
masses of refuge pests?
Not one.
Author Notes
Migrants are nation builders. Check it out.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
Your brother's keeper
Let the truth be known
Co-operate CEO's, Politicians, Government Agencies,
Drug Dealers, Preachers, Terrorist, even your Neighbor
Who do we trust
When it's all in the name of greed
For the love of money, power, and prestige
When does this all stop being a game
That we live so selfishly by fame
In putting together
The Master Plan
In robbing the sick, the poor, the elderly
All who our blindsided of a scam
With business as usual
It's all about me and mine
Have we lost our way to committing more crimes
Or is making a deal with the devil
The only way in this lifetime
(uwc) by: Zenobia Lee/LadyZ710
Dec 16, 2009
Dec 16, 2009 at 12:09 AM UTC
Have you ever Just
Sat and wondered about
Random things that
Runaroundinyourmindatthespeedoflight.
Barely understandable.
But somehow the clearest explanation.
Why things happen.
Why the world is the way it is
And why life is most important.
Why the "Powers That Be"
Seem to take over peoples lives and
Cloud them from reality.
Why people are consumed by lust
And constantly feed their desires.
Hungrily.
Why healing wounds itch and
Get scratched open again.
Bleeding invisibly.
Why government agencies lie to the people
And gets its citizens killed.
Leaving the rest ignorant and begging.
These things just, sometimes, happen.
And sometimes life's a *****
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:29 PM UTC
This is for a friend whose Facebook status on the day after the sickest **** case in Delhi 2012 was,
"thank god I'm ugly,
No boy wants to be seen with me,
Men look through me,
I'm invisible,
There's nothing appealing about my body but I'm happy,
I'm not beautiful so thank you god for the freedom you have bestowed upon me,
I WALK FREE"
7 LIKES, 2 shares and 4 comments
Her father: my daughter is the prettiest
Her brother: there's no-one prettier than my princess
Me: its not about the face my friend, animals don't know the difference, we live in the world where even goats and pigs serve as *** slaves + sperms don't seek paradise
She: read between the lines
This is for the high school hotties and plastic beauties who are miles away from the reality,
This is for the teenage wankers and middle aged ****** whose definition of beauty is ****
This is for the poets who use pulchritudinous for a woman's body and immaculate for her skin
This is for the ad agencies who try to convince us that being not fair is being ugly
This is for the authors of bed time stories where ugly characters don't get a kiss from the prince charming
This is for the walking x-ray machines who don't know my friend but know what the size of her ******* is
This is for Facebook cuties and instagram ducklings tormenting my friend with their selfies
This is for the movie industries that keep telling my friend that she'll remain a sidekick
This is for the daily soaps selling stories of moms who do not exist
This is for the celebrities,
Lost in the labyrinth of self obsession
Who cannot face themselves without their masks on
They will never find their way out of it
This is for the bullies who never spared her a peaceful stroll
This is for the organizers of the beauty pageant never held for the soul
My friend was lost in the immense chasm of despair
Scars on her wrists screamed how much she hated herself
Bloodshot eyes sang tales of her sleepless nights
But, she gave birth to her new self everytime she failed to die
Like, three failed suicide attempts made her fall in love with herself
These days, she holds her breath for seconds just to make herself believe that her life is not worthless
This is for the world holding onto fleeting beauty and letting go of everything worth grasping
MY Friend Is Beautiful
Her beauty does not give pleasure to your senses
Nothing pulchritudinous and not immaculate
Its something intangible, something only visible to a good soul- something that will never fade- something real
My friend is beautiful
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Protesting, I, rise, e-raising my hand,
in ranked row,
three from the front, in the middle,
a glance,
and nothing more, and another,
Aseneth was her name, and she hated it.
She said.
Many were the flirty glances, unrestrained
wonder
what is different,
is this ink, or scar tissue?
Eight billion essentially identical minds, in use,
being tuned to consume elemental mental
as we form from base material, mother stuff.
We think in single words, letters let us do this,
that which formerly prevented, lets us do this now,
do you read me is not valid protocol on a voxnet.
You know. Five by five, is not valid either, listen.
Does your memed mind hear me now, Brown Cow,
Dao a do nothing dues paid note, this is business,
this is what the messenger in charge,
special agent,
secret agencies allowed, in my mind, baby, listening
constantly, no time,
silent,
only imagining Major Tom.
Waking spacy Sunday Morning, unre-tied to the strand
of faith that wound the core hard ball of pure rubber,
vulcanized, for bounce,
CRACK of the bat, where once, no, each once ever,
the feeling
one side, then the other, being mentally cognoscente,
cognoscenti, either way,
we both know, we both take knowing duty as demanded
of the code
we obey. At the command. We pay proper attention,
not too much of any thing,
take your own measure,
remember, certainty is bad mad solid state, bricked.
Mar 5, 2023
Mar 5, 2023 at 1:06 PM UTC
Write a poem
To keep from
Throwing in the old towel
The towel of easy life
Not full of strife
Or exams, homework, and tests
You're not the best yet
Just on the way
Shrugging off layers of grey
And hopeless
Knock knock jokes
Drowning without a hope
In the fields of grain
Too numb to actually feel the pain
The pain of consistency
Complacency
Ad agencies
And bone shattering realizations
It's an odd sensation
Bouncing off the walls
Smoking water falls
Like we're sitting in the sin bin
This poem is ending
Henned in a caged pen
Traveling salesmen
Drop safety pins of fraternity logic
Don't get sick
We could be gone tomorrow
But hasn't that always been the case?
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 9:44 PM UTC