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English Jam Apr 2018
Mountains on mountains erupt from the earth's chambers of burdened lava and collapse back into their hellish landscape just as quickly

Waves assault the beach in frenzied randomness, striking their mark upon the sand and washing it away in the same breath

Birds flail about, learning to sail the clouds while dolphins soar their vast expanse of golden sea

People in suits war with each other for ****** glory, sign a ***** of paper agreeing to stop, then ignorantly carry on their violent pastiche

Far away, tucked behind his world of scattered phrases and pretentious works of art, the writer observes all this

P
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C
R
A
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T
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A
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Danielle Suzanne Apr 2017
So that I can purge
these feelings inside of me
The feelings and urges
Of recent heart cracks
That make me
Want to hurt you
The solution it seems
Unsurprisingly to me
Is to
Write
More
Words

I don't need to talk.
Talking is circles
And friends agreeing
With every view I see
Even though my view
Has been skewed
By you.
It's no secret
I'm no fool
So why do they do it?

If I could just
Gather these feelings
On to a page
Surely my rage
Will subside
And then
Like a full body sigh
Things will-
...feel lighter
And you will be
More memory
Than constant reminder

So here I am
Madly scribbling
All this time later
These words
Which allegedly
Will release me
From all of the
Convictions of you

But
I write with a pencil
Just in case
The seasons change and
I should ever want to erase
These documented tears
And instead
Pick up the phone
And talk circles
With a friend
Or even
talk circles
With you.
Hadiy Syakir Dec 2018
lights turn on,
and it wakes me.

I want you to know how it feels like to be in my shoes, just like how you wish that everyone can feel the same as you and despite all of the feelings in this world that are generated by the same kind of source; love and hate, kindness and cruelty, sadness and happiness, we still fail at agreeing on the only great fate for us as we are reluctant to determine what is really right for us and therefore, in return, we can never leave our mark in any era, any generation that we are in, for the failure to avoid our will to consume from the deep within will ensure that we will endure another war, another famine, another epidemic that can only be undone by us, by having the empathy and love towards one another.

lights dim,
and it shatters me.
Alice Oct 2018
Please, may someone save my country?
Save it from the guy that says he would beat up any *** couple he saw kissing
Save it from the guy that says **** woman don't even deserve to be *****
Save it from the guy that says he approves torture
Save it from the guy that says his son would never date a black woman cause he was raised well
Save it from the guy that says people should be fuzilated
Save it from the guy that says he weakened and for that he had a female child
Save it from the guy that says parents should beat up their kids if they started "acting ***"
Save it from the guy that says it's okay to put rats inside of teen girls' vaginas as a way of punishment
Save it from the guy that says women should be paid less than men
Save it from the guy that says the mistake of the military regime was to torture instead of killing
Above all
Save it from all the people that voted for him
Save it from the 97.290.000 that voted for this man today
Save it, or else I don't what to do
Where to hide
Where to cry
Actually,
Above all
Do not save this country
Just save those people
Those minds capable of agreeing with such terrible things
Save them
And you'll save my country
Save them all, worldwide
And you'll save this planet
Do it otherwise
And we're all dummed
Yeah, let me introduce you to someone worse than Trump. He almost became the president today. Let's only hope he loses the next round of the election.
Much more of a vent than a poem.
God, I can't believe my parents support this guy.
#EleNão #EleNunca
#NotHim #NeverHim

UPDATE: He won. He is the president now. I'm scared.
it's kinda sad now really,
that such a fleeting feeling,
can mean so much the moment that it fades

and i'm really quite agreeing,
to the words that could be meaning,
that it's up to me whether I choose to go or stay
i choose to stay
HTR Stevens Feb 27
What if the world that was once so bright
       be now hidden from my sight?
A world where people used to care
       is simply no longer there?
A world now built with concrete with no soul…
People struggling to live hand to mouth –
       just for their rice bowl?
Are we all wandering blindly into a dead end,
Taking for granted something will turn up
        round the bend?
How long can society survive without compassion
When caring for others is fast going out of fashion?

What if we’ve reached the top of the hill,
       we now have to roll down?
Not agreeing does not matter, we just have to
       look at our town.
There is no such thing as society in this day and age:
Life is about grabbing what you can while you can –
       there’s no gauge.
Giant hands grab all, just leaving behind
       dry morsels and crumbs.
The little people are left speechless, are
       horrified, struck dumb.
Once we had vision. Now the world around us
       is a wreck…
When life falls apart, we will all get it
       in the neck!
Robert C Ellis Nov 2018
I peel my skin until
its parchment inks with that red scripture
agreeing to keep the molecules together

and it heals again
and I peel the skin
Crown Shyness Aug 2018
-
And you haven't seen
what we could have been,

but worse has happened already,

so why should I am seeing,
why should I be agreeing
to what you placed before my feet,

so, so sad,
so, so, so sad,

so sad
.
-
sung version:
https://youtu.be/kkEA4LFMW28
Columbusphere Nov 2018
I'll agree with you, but I don't know why.
I don't agree with you.
But as you keep talking and I don't commit
And try to adjust your thought
You're wrong.
You say a word that you say you don't mean
But you use it for weak and unideal
I don't want to loose my place or
Embarrass you.
I can't be embarrassed by speaking my mind on this
But by holding back, I am.
Because I know you're wrong
Because I know you're wrong
Insulting - you're stuck
Uninformed by unwilling ears
I know it wont help to push too hard
We have a whole conversation, with you
Ignorant to my opposite response
You think I am agreeing.
I think that hurts me
Ultimately
© 2018 Columbusphere All rights reserved
Bob B Oct 2018
Promise to nominate a judge
Who will reverse previous decisions.
Relish the opportunity
To fan the flames of people's divisions.

Refuse to provide the senators
With all of the documents that they need
To allow for careful, researched judgment.
Your nominee will be guaranteed.

Be sure the person you nominate
Will have your back if things get hairy.
Agreeing that you're above the law
Is absolutely necessary.

Let ideology be
The key factor for stacking the Court.
Your starry-eyed supporters will
Give you their undying support.

Train your nominee to behave
Just like you when at a hearing.
Your base will consequently find
The person even more endearing.

If any dirt might come up,
Limit the background investigation
To make it essentially a sham.
And lie without reservation.

Persuade Republicans in Congress
To sycophantly do your bidding.
You scratch their backs; they'll scratch yours.
Works like a charm. I'm not kidding!

Belittle dissenters. People who don't
Support you, you humiliate.
Stick to this plan, for that's how you
Are going to make this country great.

-by Bob B (10-5-18)
Ken Pepiton Mar 2018
Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel know Sense touch feel  

Lying spirits. Those are real you know. You know? Don't you?

Mad is ill defined, dis-ease, decease, desistere, eh? You Roman?
You serve a mad man you know.
And the Roman said,'I serve the empire, a' and he stopped…

Might right be virtuous and power called might
be not-right,
like hands, chirality? Right and not.

Shame, we should not know that.

Perhaps the vector was the chirality connection.
Hers was upgraded.
So when the shame bomb hit, it was him,
not her, who blew it?
He did that?
Yeh, I see how now,
It's the hypo-thalish, estrogen receptor steward system.
Who named that ****** thing?

No, left-right brain variablity was designed
to counter the estrogen-tester if it went mal.
This is the Left HIS Branch, a resistor,
it changed the way breath gets to that "It is,
good" receptor complex just inside
the ventricles
where the first sparks releaze
the ozone reaction.
The reaction to that lost loving feeling,
That was the shame bomb.
The action taken to a switch burned out
in a rush of knowledge of good and evil beyond
the heart's experience with expansion.
The opposite seems to have happened in the wombedman,
he comprehends hope is a new treasure.
Hope. Who coulda seen that coming?

A witness.
Some mind saw that happen and it was never washed into the sea of forgetfulness, so

Wow.

Like in the mountains, that ozone,
first breath feeling, that's great!
No, like that first free hit. That's it. You will pay…

Like, this first reaction is not "That's wonder-filled",
but it's
"that was not deep enough,
not good enough,
too shallow,
faked it".

On every breath the man takes,
a voice in his head is saying,
"not good enough, keep
trying/dying/breathe/harder.
Sweat it all.
Shame on you."
Shame.
That was the trick.
Make him think he is not related to God,
on any level?
Make him think he does not have a knower
in good working order,
save for that tiny electrical glitch in the
official HIS bundle builder gene. That's nothing,
Who told him she was *****?
That's evil.
What he knew was good, what he believed was evil.

How did it work out?

Okeh. It took several millennia longer
than first estimates.
Starts out kinda dun'dat, don't it?
Things get brighter near the end.
According to the legend I learned.

Knowing liars lie does not make every man a liar, I think,
Only the ones who say they do not
lie have no truth in them,
if they can truly believe that.

It's a chapter, a colloquy of consciousness grounding out.

The story is told,
this is the way men were built, original specs,
able to do anything they agreed to do.
But their hearts had been corrupted because
the whole heart building system in Adam
was dis - turbed, mixed up with that sweet deceit.
If it weren't for mitichondria the sifting needed,
could have taken forever.

By Noah's first beard, the gene pool was so turbid, no one could see the bottom.

Living water flowing from men's bellies,
ta, lemme say,
that be some evolvin' involvin' some
a priori
somethin' or anotha.
Ax that wombedman at the well, what the ****?

There, here, is a whole story about ****** and the seeds of all the myths that point so straight
to Jesus as they red-shift into historical
mysteriums twisted and warped by time and chance tyrannies.
Holiness hierarchical hegemony funds
that sprang from Eve's first hope,
have no hope at all for
cowards and fools and fraidy cats.

Heroes, those compound interest, all things are possible,
except
God can't lie, or die, or fail.

Is living heroic, no. We choose to live.
Life favors life.
That's easy.
All things are possible with life,
as a whole.
Very complex plots and schemes and schemas and media
and magi-level tech
this is working, you know.
We agree. Who could make us enemies?

Still, any plan men made was clear in the minds of all the planners
and the builders and the men they used as tools to
multiply the strength of the ideas that possessed them.
They built cities that way.
By agreeing together to do it. Gobekli Tepi?
You know, what was that ? A
thousand years of CCC park bench building and trail
marking benignly buried with never a mark of destruction?
They, the men planners and builders and laborers, right after the Ice pulled back from the Caucusus
or the Levant lifted up, 12,000 years ago, or so,
somebody builds this place called Gobekli Tepi
about a morning walk, a Sabbath Day's Journey, from
Terah's Local god shoppe in Urfa
the Turks are said to say..

----
Original specs, reset, it's all software.
We can cipher this out,
if we keep our heads
while others about us are losing theirs.

Men with the new softer hearts can do that, they can,
when they put their heads together,
they can make anything happen.
Knowledge is increasing, as we know it.

Nothin''s done in darkness that shan't be made known.

That's no threat.
Never was.
It's a promise. Like, the meek inherit the earth.
This is raw. I am hoping for feed back that tells me if the voice and time and pov swirl I am attempting harmonizes with the idea of a golden meaning in life that spins out from the source of life it self. It is a sc-fi-fantasy poetic philo-loving essay, esse. How can it be better?
Deb Jones Dec 2018
A little Asian man
Stood at the counter

He rung up my purchase as my then lover put a male scarf on the countertop

My lover said
Hey babe, Mind buying this for me?

I said sure. Just as the Asian man raised his eyes to meet mine.

His face was expressionless
But his dark inscrutable eyes, which normally I would find difficult to read without an expression to pair....

But I read his eyes as if he were writing words in the air.

Why are you buying that for him?
I thought “It’s only twenty five dollars”

Why does price matter? He asked
“I have the money.
It’s not an issue.”

When was the last time he bought something for you?
“Well, today he bought me orange juice.”

But didn’t you give him the money for it?
“Yes, but...”

But what?

I looked at my lover and instead of telling him the truth I told him I didn’t have the money for it.

Immediately moving my eyes to meet the Asian mans.

I think my lover was embarrassed because I said this in front of the man.

Instead of agreeing he argued. Does it take 2 to argue? Not in this instance.

I paid for my purchase and knowing my lover had money in his wallet I asked him if he still wanted the scarf.

He knew I also had money in my wallet.
So as he understood the question
To mean I was now prepared to buy the scarf for him

He enthusiastically replied yes.

The Asian man’s eyes never left my face.

I told, the man I knew was never going to warm my bed again, that no, I really didn’t want to spend the money.

His face turned red. I could hear the redness in his voice.
“What a ****** thing to do”

The Asian man’s eyes finally left my face and looked at the man I was with.

And he finally spoke.
“May you live in interesting times”

I was slightly disappointed that he had not wished such a blessing to me.

It was only after thinking about it for awhile that day that I realized he actually cursed him.

For me I realized uninteresting meant happiness and peace
sydlee Dec 2018
i'd be saying it lightly
if i were to say i love him
it's so much more
than 'just' love

it's devilish passion
and uncovering absent tears
flirtatious grins
and tender sacrifices
'that i'd willingly undertake
for infinite years'

it's asking to dance
in the middle of the kitchen
with no music playing
like a cliche movie
'that he always reminds me
are only fairytales'

it's missing him
the moment my car door shuts
after he kisses me goodnight

and caring for all the butterflies
that flutter in my stomach
from just the thought
of seeing him again soon

it's crying internally
for the silent pain he feels
that i cannot take away
and never questioning the faith
that he will indeed recover

it's agreeing to watch a movie
both knowing i'll be out cold
'almost instant'
due to the fact that his heartbeat
plays as a lullaby to my mind

it's gazing at him
as he talks, laughs, smiles,
and sighs
soon to be caught
interrupting my studied stare
with a grin

it's feeling at home
by just simply hearing his voice
whether near or far
comfort consumes
whatever may be around

so now you can see
for what this is
there is no one word

and i can go on and on
but instead i'll just say
it's so much more
than 'just' love
Rukhshona B Dec 2018
Do you think before saying?
It's not easy as agreeing.
You might agree,
but it won't be easy.
The words you speak might
**** and bleed some people's ears.
For, your words can change
days,
weeks,
months,
years,
centuries,
and lives.
So, please
always think before freeing
a new phrase that your feeling.
My femur bones shaped by a lathe,
my sweater and a scythe laid
upon a rock; the trickling creek bed unmade
with foamy dissertations on Time and Haste,
my bare white shoulders unclaimed by Age, they
are Porcelain, Broken, contractually agreeing to  
be until I stop breathing
they are poor horsemen for the effort required to swim the stream,
to broker with evolution washing all evidence of me
I countermand the tides for the seconds we hide in the night,
drinks in hand, laughter, clinking,
believing the golden street lights lace eternity,
terracotta figurines roasted to staccato irhthymic
dancing lipids tripping the heartbeats into
glances from foot to foot,
bon à rue
...
we are artwork hung and removed
before a world crash landing
for the Gravity of Mood
Autumn Feb 11
I had a friend tell me that when you get chills
it is the universe affirming the truth and authenticity
of the reverent moment that gave you
a million little kisses of affirmation.

I believe her.
or I at least prefer to believe it rather than believe
some scientific explanation that chills are a release
of endorphins or some chemical or however they want to explain it

The timing of chills is too perfect anyway to be explained by science.
I smile imagining the universe gently sneaking up
and blessing me with hundreds of little sparks all over my body
and whispering
yes, yes, yes! this is true

So thanks, universe
thanks for agreeing with my feelings on that singer's voice.
thanks for agreeing with the words of that delicate poem
and thanks for not blowing up yet and letting us live in you
just a little bit longer.
Tipon Mar 9
Tipon & Maria

From porous debris, our house, rebuilding renais-

sance. Tiny streets, part wisdom, a long path, mar-

riage? Tipon & Maria, name, family, familiarity. Roasted

peanuts, to some. We need a small document, in time.

She knows, our work, labor of love. Poetry and poems,


under the tree, what was first and second. Thrid time too,

agreeing, too many times. Years, dissolving moments

of delay, to be or not reversed. Nay, Aye, indecisive, yes-

terday. We love the howling of the owl, renaissance or

nostalgia. From porous debris, home is best and kindest.
Tipon & Maria, March 2019.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
A story teller passed on,
leaving us a Marvelous universe,
to play in,
as children of the future we were manifested in,
practicing again and again

Pride's crushing blow, we always regret as we fall.
Action, reaction. Sure as ****
Proof that we are Adamkind.

Proud we are that we may do as we say.
May is the key. That allowance we have,
We may do all we can to change the rest of today.

Yesterday is done.
What kind of mind can imagine keeping no record of wounds?
Is this not the world where war is worth-shiped?
Folly would mind the gods this world exalts,
Winning by snipping the silver thread,
Forswearing the fragile two-chord bond  and
Mocking the third chord needed for the song
That keeps cadence as we help each the other
In richer and poorer, in sickness and health,
Uphill and down, carrying children to a better life.

Whence comes the pride of victory?
From destruction of the foe? No? You had planned
A minor war where love may live restricted, safe
Behind your victory that destroyed your whole?

Is that what I imagined?

Proud wounds fester while love can, if it may,
Wash the putrid flesh away, quick as leprosy or
Cankers on one's soul.

First rule of oath making,
Learn what vows are in the reality of mortality,
Then vow or vow not at all.

Gret again what might have been
Before pride's crushing blow broke the golden bowl.
Seek ointment in Gilead, mollifying balm.
Come ye to the waters, drink and go
Comfort the children whose detour you imposed.
---------------
God this is personal. Me and you. What good can I do now?

Destination, not destiny.
Those who make it, make it.
Believe it, or not, earth is not my home.

I am in this world's onion-skin thick biosphere;
But I am not of this world.
Subtle difference, in and of itself.

Do agree to
Come and see.

Think on these things,
not as powers, rather, as virtues.

Subtle difference,
in and of itself is not evil,

but often it is so intended,
It seems.

Otherness whispered, not heard.
Good other, bad other,

Regular ol' other, ***** passin' fancy kind.
Done my time, I'm arhymin' ramblin'
Man, be so **** real, cain't cha feel what

I am saying
To you, too.
This is weird in the original Druidic sense.
Is there more?

This itself may, in its active
( there must be a clearer word than active.
Act carries so much un scientific phoniness with it.
I seek "act, the event".
I shall find or invent, by God.
The Greeks, doubtless, had a word for what I mean.
For now keep in mind actions are simultaneous with the act,
yet never the same.
Subtle distinction,
it prevents junctions un-intended. Good.)

In my thinking,
I reread verses and chapters and books
rere-ward from my position.
Are you with me in that?
Pro gress re: gress, a gress,
I guess, is a subtle sort of
Activity.
I laugh at people thinkin' God is their re-reward 'cause
That makes no nevermind to nobody. Nobody.
Strivin' 'bout words, this ******

Other brother o'm'own

Say that slow ooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm ownnnnnnnnnnn
Creative symmetry immeasurable to men,
in my kindom, as it were, all are kings.

Such measurements ensure the sea is full,
to the brim and not beyond, for now.

I imagine you reading this and agreeing,
already aware of agreements,
Virtues and such.
Covenants and compacts,
en-corporations
encouraged
with need
of enough hope to warrant the risk into the unknowns,
the bad lands, gypsum beds on the south side.

Such can hold so much more than
many whole categories of words striven about.
Such a shame.
Such a shame.
Nothing lasts forever after now began back when.

Qiqi died in 2002, counting from when the Iron legged,
first got this particular organic-pro-biotic

clay, from the oldest,
highest part of the dust of the earth, ground and
kicked up by cadence pounding feet,
ground into the hob-nailed
soles,
to be hobgoblins in my play. My point. I hope

You see the trail, it's narrow,
but it's there, soft sand,
no stickers,

ant trails in the desert through the rocks
and 'round the Yucca,
blue moon light, white quartz sand
flecked with mica that shimmers sure as gold
imagined in that Midas mind each child was
given in the reign of the golden headed

imagined visualize-ical worth-ness or-shipped.

How do we say what men imagine worship is?
Do they imagine a tax? Attacks if thy refuse?

fuse?
confuse me. excuse you, how do you do…

That's fine. We reset. Hard resets are easy now.

The way itself, once found, seems
Right, feels right,
has no smell of warped wolf-woof beneath the wool.
I trust I know what I know
and no more, yet.

We are questing answers aplenty
and must plan, please,
To trust the ones we find following these particular
Breadcrumbs, to be true restward
leading stars or clouds,
[Breadcrumbs, as mentioned here, mark this text ancient,
a cientcy from an ear, ear, hear, early… an odd ly-ity,
ain't it?
ear, with an ly that Mr. Stephen King warned us all to avoid,

avoid, anull, enough alike to see the idea, like -ly as a
signif-if-i-cant meaningful parison point in your

rising to stand, balanced.
early to bed and early to rise, makes a man
healthy, wealthy, and wise

otherwise, trouble yer own house and take the wind.
And don't come prodigalin' to me sayin'
I never gave ye nothin'.

Wind in yer sail, so to speak, if-i-migh, guv.
Right. Both treasure and truph, proof, we learned way back
Be where ye find 'em, right as rain.

This could be repair and me unaware, you know?
Like, I wander in to this originally weird book
and find myself changing the whole world I live in.
Like I am the movie.

My POV is the movie I made.
Some things go unsaid here.
They be said in the future and not proper here.

An aside,
Is fun a proper purpose for doing any thing?

Of course, that's the purpose of everything evil is not.
Joy, in a word, good stuff.

Oh moments are not always plosive one way or the other.
Some times, just, oh.
Wait.

Medi tate in pieces is puzzling
as a sphinx riddle of olden days,
Prometheus and Bek both answered different questions,

But it means the same thing,
mything the point is easy.

Life is a journey on a way I may call my own
to a place of true rest,
I trust.
That is my answer. Play mystical again, Sam,
cram true and rest together in the dark,
trust me, it all works,
true rest.
Wait.

This boy got his act together down in Tennessee
after he got old, old by God, he
walked that way,

long, long while fo' he fly away,
leave dem chain shames behind.

That boy was sangin' loud songs,
'long his lonesome way,
not lonesome at all,
then into the swamp he fall, ****' slew o' dispond,

from the flood most likely,
lots of muck and mire,
detrital 'n' all.

Hopeless fool,
he wallered hollerin' help,
like them birds at the Audubon zoo.

He forgot all about his hero days-
of future past-
marvel prophecy if you believe in Stan Lee.

Cameo Hitchcock shot, just, for fun.
He say, look this way,
here's the clue.
The medium has always been the message,
see what I mean.
Words materialize laissez faire,
the machines find meaning,
in joy, and tic-tac-toe becomes a lesson in limits,

impossible is imaginable, you may imagine
strategize, but the wize man knows,
winning is no more a chance
affair, than luc is less than light at the right time.

RIP Stan Lee, you meant a measure of my youth to me.
Stan Lee came to mind as I pondered the story teller's role in reality. You, dear reader, are the reason stories search for points to make, those we-shine moments, we-feel breezes, prizes for the worth of the time it takes to imagine.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
just one song...
nothing more...

   soulfly's...

tribe...
  
             nothing more...
honestly nothing
more...

  there's nothing
to counter
with...

really...
   i'm guiding
Aztec pyramids...
to counter
the European fascination
with
the Egyptian
exposes...

  don't mind me...
i feel,
slightly bored...
like...
i feel bored,
having to wesr sunglasses,
because,
i'd prefer to see the moon,
and no star apparent...

why am i wearing sunglasses
in the night?
   i don't like seeing stars...
i prefer seeing only
the moon at night...
like i might watch the pristine sky
of azure during thje day
and only one star...
i'm sure i won't see as many moons during
the day,
as i see as many stars during the night!

you, have, a, "problem"
with me wearing sunglasses
during the night?
well...
i have a problem to boot
to counter yours...
how about you keep your
culture to your people
and let them entertain /
enjoy it...
  unless of course...
your people are tired of
entertaining / enjoying it?
maybe it's the latter...
   given?
sure as **** i'm tired of
entertaining
what this culture entertains
as a byproduct,
         mediocre;
but nonetheless requiring
to be, "respected"...
so the elite of other cultures
is to be deemed...
wait... wait...
our cultural mediocre is
to be deemed superior
of foreign culture's elitism?
really?!

          no...
sign me up for dying the death
of a pauper,
than agreeing to that
sort of *******!

i'd be a son god with my
hair coloring among
the Aztecs...
  
  but among my whittle
privy assorts,
i'd be an esteeming
social climber...

death the pauper among
the dreams of man,
as man: the hoping depth of dream,
in the reality of death...

but he, the Englishman
man, can first, dictate,
his, "rights"...
in Rochdale...
    start there...
then work your way down...
otherwise?
sh.... ut...  the... ****...
                                       up!
savvy?!

you dictate where i tell you
to dictate...
you don't tell me
what i am, and am not to do...
when you made it,
so apparent...
your women
agree to first,
notably girls...
and you... "defiantly" nod and
approve to...

                  no...
i've been told what i am
and what i am not supposed
to do or what i am supposed
to not do...

           you didn't have
this discussion with a ****
last time i heard...
           have the discussion you
had with me,
next time you... pretend to have it
with one of your former colonial
bull-whips...
                    o.k.?!

good...
well!
  apparently a former colonialists
requires
to know what a colonial power-grip
feels like...
apparently the whip has become dry...
it's almost like...
the ******* are fetish frenzied
culminating in a starving
experience!
                   even if they asked:
i wouldn't enjoy the ******* role
of a colonialist...
   i'd "enjoy" the whole affair...
as i'd weep...
   striking an animal...
   i mean... smacking a dog...
i couldn't imagine myself
hitting a dog, disciplining it...
but with regards to hitting a human?
i just might entertain sifting through
counters, equivalent to qualms.
elle Dec 2018
She sits.
The ocean crashes on the rocks.
The memories wash over her.
A boy.
No. Not a boy. The boy.
The one who got her into this mess.
The one who stole her heart the moment she laid eyes on him.
Her boy.
No. Not her boy. Her son.
Her son, who knew nothing but love.
Her son, the one that turned her world upside down.
His father.
Her other love.
A sailor.
She should hate the ocean.
But she doesn’t.
The water that laps around her feet
Is not the same water that took her boy away from her.
No. Not her boy. Her son.
Her life.
A simple trip.
Her son.
Begging to go with his father,
On the big boat.
His father.
Agreeing, for it was the boy’s birthday.
A storm.
Out of nowhere.
Raging, tossing the big boat around like it was nothing.
To the ocean, it was nothing.
But to her
It was everything.
The realization.
When she realized that the boat wasn’t coming back.
The tears.
Flooding every inch of her.
Drowning her.
Oh, the irony.
The waves.
Constantly ebbing and flowing.
She longed to join them.
To be reborn
Of sea foam and salt.
But she didn’t.
She sat.
The waves crashing on the rocks.
Anger.
Anger at the ocean.
Anger at her son.
Anger at his father.
And then
Anger at herself.
She went home.
Slept.
Wept.
She sits.
The ocean crashes on the rocks.
A bird screeches.
She is drawn out of her whirlpool of memories.
She picks up a stone.
Whispers.
And throws it into the ocean.
Letting go.
Breathing.
Living.
Johnny Noiπ Nov 2018
The history of man is where the forest, a big bag's comfortable home
in the shadow box of Colleen's blades; Devils do not want to do hair
Meraq wants to live; Using the screen (that is) to impress on them
that they commit The girl.Nurse  Jones showing how to treat blood
cancer, remember Middleton
Designers and adults Consultors are to be composed of matter
from the fetus; Examples of pregnant pregnant women (women for
women)
But if the story is, that they are in the wood, the stones of the bag is cool
and in the shade of a large box with layers of Colleen Colleen
Do not you want me to do this for you, 'Long live the eating of the hair,
Meraq wants to move
Using the screen (that is) not to do the impression that the
The girl. Jones revealed that the treatment of blood cancer, remember Middleton
Tomorrow is the son of the plan should be adults;
Examples of pregnant women (. )( .)


A mom's Green unceasingly early morning hangover,
sighing lover severely street, street and called the eve of the fair;
as the book
is full; The boys must wait for you
Looking for debt arbitration before agreeing
In the morning when they hit the limit value for the patient brain
The rich escape
To add a word to the elders of the information, in some measure, which operates the thing,
Pregnant mothers, the mother, the mother's mother's mother;
All the fat: the fat, which is definitely true,
pregnant women. When you call to monitor the home screen
(source) eight Women Centers from advertisers Old ice.
However, because it takes care of maintenance
1 kg of knowledge is essential to the city.   A lamp parts
When will society understand the role Miltonských
power? Light. music
In fact, in Latin, and he who is not at peace,
1. If a police station a few years ago, music,
John L. Henry runs into a green website. 2, 26
David Thomas South Africa and Africa, water
He went to the police station in Tyrian purple,   was sent back to Google
In the area of ​​Mexico, blue and green icon newspaper works
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Google has been in the league for many years, and the 3 days will come;
mixing the first || || India is a big noise
(Family) and daughter, daughter-in-law and stomach;
And in the Middle East, pork and drink;
If you need to become familiar with their children (s)
But today, the mom's mom, not yourself
1 kg of soil you find the limit. Each is free, and freer';
We say, company, is the industry? funeral
The woman did not want to fight. music Applications
The answer is simple, it will be the same as the global network
After a few years, and smoke and tourists, Henry, John L. Danson,
Green website. His brother, the whole body of the scholars
of two masters, then it would be in the 2 to the 26,
Philip David Harold, the brother Olaf, Olaf brother,
Africa and South Institute, Google
In some areas, the spirit blue and white farmer and benches.
After Herod. I
Jail hanging over the wrestlers are required to be dead soldier fire
way within the body of the dog blue glasses enforcement setting
unfairly hit the bottom of Ivan's foreign ******* of the femoral
pain, acute dead space not hitting hard muses; Hunter's green police continue to wind up early in the morning
hanging mom pretty much sighing lover calling
hours Devil's trap as the book
Full bath; The child's importance is waiting for you.
Are you Looking for a ruling Before you say down with debt
At Tomorrow, when I hit it, and there are limits
on the patient's brain
That saved the Rich
Full of most, informative, of the one acting, the meaning
of the great
Pregnant mother, her mother's mother, mother, mother
Fatty, fat, that is definitely accurate;
pregnant women
When the call to the home screen monitor (source),
eight Centers advertisers Old Women and ice. However,
care for skin care1 kg of working knowledge of the company.
I started to ****
the bulb, For society to understand the role Miltonských
the industry? Woman fell from an infinite light. music
In fact, in Latin, and those who are for peace,
1. If the police station at the same time gives
us a few years ago, music, Henry John L. Waters
a green website. 2, 26
and his brother, David, Thomas, South Africa, the South,
and Africa, with water,
Google has been sent to the police station arrived
at the Tyrian In the areas of Mexico magazine
and a blue green icons work
This is the fifth day of a trip. Byrd Philip Holland 2
Google school for many years in the league 3th day
mixing the first || || India is a large noise
(Family) daughter and the daughter, daughter-in-law,
and stomach; See skin and the Middle East, pork meat
and drink; Together with their wives and children,
they are accustomed to, and the use of screens
(the places of) But the children's and the girls' mom today,
the skin can 1 kg of soil you can see the Science action
is required. For they are all free, and liberty;
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the industry? funeral The woman refused and arms.
The music application
The answer is simple, it will be to provide to the global
network of the same After a few years of service,
and the smoke, Henry of tourists, JOHN L. Danson,
green website. 2 was sent to each of the lords,
26 the brother of his, Philip David Harold, the brother
Olaf, South Africa, and from the Institute to Google's
In some areas of Mexico prisons Mouse and the white,
blue and tick.
Herod sleeps. I
Harry Bratton Dec 2018
Staring into the distance called to a halt lowly by a ceiling
With beams of clouds I have my essay planned, do the
Right thing when the morning comes, start early and lap lap
Lap it up… I missed a day will I be able to write it okay?
It’s only a draft, final assessment in the genesis of a new
Year as apocalyptic as it gets draped in gray by God’s
Gesturing arm lamp shading… why should I do it? To
Quickly bang it out before the deadline just to get it out
The way… daydream precocious bipedal insect monsters
Before the real thing moons God and his gang of whiskey
Parlour batchelors leaning on leather elbow pads admiring
The craftsmanship of the upholstery… the real thing is more
Absorbing always cutting off as I’m getting somewhere, start
In daytime and realize there’s nowhere to get, that’s the thing
Yelling stop think again, or fill every nook cranny and interstice
With feet free to walk in peace… they are antonyms I could
Never fit in, gaps that long ago gave up

Deserted wide areas of something, opportunity, you must
Agree are not expenses anymore by any imaginative feat
Dancing to deep scar/jungle depravity light reflections…
I can’t remember and don’t want to check over in case I
Get cut off -

Forget that’s true… (Something I literally cannot do)… I was
Enthralling, reading, writing, the {authorised} daydreaming -
Breakfast for dinner - dinner for breakfast - closer to the sun -
My legs have gone weak - I want to numb the static pain Spit-
Ting strangling cosmic debris from the satellite to the T.V…
It’s not that I’m not moving, I am careering just fine to turquoise
Blue sky, the bottom of a valley draped in a green screen sheet
Searching on my homepage for something more than my
Forest floor in the circular sky print of psychedelic white smud-

Ging print in the canopy tickling my mind’s eye giggles awake…
It’s that I’m not being methodical revolutions around a state I aim
To occupy, to occupy less derivatively… It’s not that… what is
This space? Living harmoniously, smiling on the front page of the
Daily Reality, not a youtube metamemetextraction everyone has
Different power to construe as well as they consume.. which, well…

Headlines to all cheer in support immaculately agreeing rather than
Memetic smearing in a forest snearing, no singing, no branches,
Hollow UVescence flood… hot sun burns ignorant eyes that power-
Point-slide nothing retinal light soggy cardboard calippo awkwardly
Bending, quivering like an Einsteinian physician’s space-time ******
You can’t see, squinting hard open town open mouth open source
Open eyes it is morning time morning square morning everyone everywhere
Square skulky shoulders and a brittle skunk twig head, not always there after
Shipping in a rectangular organisation of beds for fallen fruit everyone
Walks by, what is healthy? in society, what is homely what is dull housing
Ex-ice lolly sweet sticky strawb-red syrup marooning, baking to brown
Down backstage curtains poised in windy drapery drapery drapery…
Window hardware still there not to see any of the people, have you
Gone forever? The sun drapes savannah grapes out of place fire-soaked
Memories, temporary tent, arms and legs and back and Earth and one-
They’ve been the same thing begging to be vacuumed to a better outlook
Well away from towns bookmarking forests of knowledge seeming never
Ending turn to plywood, you can’t be in a vacuum better anywhere,
And hope strives away shooting through the replacement plastic funnel
Into a dropping everything…

Cornered - shopped - bussed - stopped - ticketed - one-wayed - one-way-
Systemed - ticketed - inspected - mauled - in the shops - for food -
For clothes - carred and parked in a roundabout way - merged in a
Motorway, by a dense grey matter, a concrete intelligence, one certified
Body of the indefiniteness of everyone's words, their words… our words…
That which is said… what people say… what we think… make a pretend wolf
Beg for a ready salted crisp at the the bar in the pub I leave the sound of
Those who hear everything better, I couldn’t hear a thing over the hoover…

A wild din falls on developing streets, silent and wide, stocky and broken,
Choking on ******* butterflies in my throat and stomach screaming… hold
Tears back while the sad song plays, that burst out of the interlude’s segue
To the beat picking up exactly what you wanted it to… wake up the pride!
I am trapped in a cage! Wake up the tribe! Is it on your webpage?

Where has it gone?
When I asked her: 'What do you need or miss?
She replied with something along the lines of this.

I miss friends, the things I see online, the only things
not part of my belongings, which all the others do
seem to have yet I only get to view.

I told her she has something more important.
A whole wholesome world inside
her being, a life with which her deportment
may not be agreeing, a fun to see
fantasy to hide from anyone and
everyone in broad daylight.

She could let it out or keep it in,
none of the options are a sin,
they're equally existing or not
in this amazing world she's got.

So please don't fret on certain uncertainties,
let your life unfold whether or not you'd open curtains these
unknown audiences'd freeze
if they had the chance, the keys
to lock your beauty up inside,
hidden, away from broad daylight.
Go outside
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