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Andrew Parker Mar 2017
3-2-2017 (unknown date of origin)

Something's wrong... you don't belong here.
I said, looking down at the pineapple on my pizza.
I said, looking down at the ketchup on my macaroni.
I said, looking down at the cream of mushroom soup on my meatloaf.
He said, looking down at me and my boyfriend, holding hands in public.

Like I'm a creep.  I'm a ******.
What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.

You see there's these things that we learn at the dinner table.
When we're kids we have certain items served to us on our plates.
Whatever doesn't end up there, isn't a part of the discussion.
After all, they say if you don't have a seat at the table, you are likely to be on the menu.

So, when ****** orientation and gender identity aren't seated at the table of childhood, they get served for the first time in unexpected places.  

Like an avante garde celebrity chef's designer meal, prepared for critiques by the food bloggers.  

They get served in college classroom debates or in dorm rooms with freshman roommates.  

They're on the menu in in some movies but served with a side of stereotypes and silly trope toppings.  

They get grinded into glitter dust sprinkled on the annual PRIDE Parades like an overly salty seasoning mix.  

They're on the menu in workplace diversity trainings, but too little too late - they get lost in the marginalized buffet.  

They get served at the oppression Olympics, or actually at the Olympics unwillingly by a journalist who only pretends to eat a well-balanced diet, but really has LGBT food allergies,  if you know what I mean.


In reality, these should be staple dishes consumed by commoners, consumed by you and me, consumed by children along with their healthy daily dose of broccoli and cauliflower, squash and zucchini, even eggplant.  

They should be in every ******* cookbook with pictures and all different kinds of recipes!


I want every child to have gay on their dinner plate, lesbian lunch, gender nonconforming on the brunch menu, and bisexual breakfast.  

And everything in between in the queer spectrum served during snack breaks.  


I want every child to look down at their plate and see pineapple pizza and say, gee that looks great!  

I love all of the pizza toppings, no matter whether gay or nay.
... except for anchovies, of course.
Renjith Prahlad Aug 2011
-----------
               -Renjith Prahlad (15 Aug 2011 : 3:00am )
              

Aakashamee..nee innu prashanthamaayirikkunnu..meghangal oralankaaramaayi ninte meniyil innu kanunnilla..athinartham innu pavizhangal podiyillennnalle..Appol, Vishaadamaano nee innennil ulavaakiya rasam..Ente ella rahasyangalumariyunna aakaashamee..nee ente priya suhruthu..Innoru divasam koodi alle enikku mazhathullikale sparshikkan pattu,mazhathullikalude nanvil kuliraan kazhiyoo..Garpham peri alayunna meghangale kshanikku..thulikalkku piravi nalkuvan aanjyaapikku..kaaranam mazhathullikalude gandhavum peri,mazhathullikalude sparshanathinte navaanubhavavum nenjiletti enikku pokanam..paavanamaaya pachappillatha aa lokathekku,pacha manushyarude naduvileekku,garphapaathrangal aruthumaatiya meghangal kondu niranja aakashame melkoorayaayi thangipidichirikkunna marubhoomiyilekku..arabinaatilekku..Naalathe sooryodayathinoppam ente vimanavum udikkum..Pakshe sooryaasthamanathinu manikkorukal munpu enniyaalum theeratha kathanakathakalude kathaanayakanmaarudeyum naayikamaarudeyum idayilekku mattoru kathanakathaye rachikkaan aa vimaanam asthamikkum

Oru perumazhakaalamaanu..irunda anthareekshavum shakthamaaya kaattum..Aakashatholam valarnnu pandhalichu nilkunna maavu kaatil aadi ulayunnu..Athe marathinte ettavum uyarnna kombil oroonjaal kettiyirikkunnu..Kurunnu kuttikale oonjaaliliruthi muthrunnavar aati rasippikkunnathu pole elam kattine oonjaliliruthi kodum kaatu aati kalippikkunnu. Muttathu vidarnnu nilkkunna pookalkkinnu daahamillathe urangaam..oro manthariyum mazhathullikalude thaalathmakamaaya sangeethathodu chuvaduvaykkunnu..muttathe pookkalkkoppam,marangalkkoppam,oonjaalinoppam oro mantharikkumoppam ivide oru veedunndu..veettil orammayum..Veedinte munvaathil thurannu aa amma purathekkirangi vidoorathayilekku nokki paranju..Avan varaan samayamaayallo..innaanu vimanam ennanallo kathilavanezhuthiyirunnathu..eppozhanaavo avan varaa..Mazhathullikalaal maranja vidoorathayileekku nokki avarirunnu.."nee eppol vannalum ennu vannalum ninakku ettavumishtamulla palahaarangalum undaaki ee amma ninakkai kathirikkunnathu nee kanunnille unni..nee ethra valarnnittundenkilum..ethra muthrunnittundenkilum nee poyappol ivide kettiyirunna oonjalippozhum ninne aatirasippukkuvaanaayi kaathirikkunnathu nee ariyunnille entunnii..pathinnaaraam vayassil poyathalle neeyu..ini mon
thirikeee vaa..ammaykkunniye kaananam..

Maavinmarathinte shikharangalil thoongi kidakkunnorila paranju..paavam amma..enikkavarude vishamam kaanan vayya..ethra varshanglaayi avar palahaarangalumaayi enno orikkal makanezhuthiya kathile aksharangaleyum vishwasichu,pratheekshayude kirangalaal manassineyum prakaashichu jeevikkunnu..avan ee ammaye enne marannittundaakanam..avante manassil oru kanika sneham vasikkunnu enkil varenda samayam kazhinjirikkunnuu..kazhinja vasantham kaalam muthal maathramaanu njan ammaye kaana thudangiyathu..ennalum itha avarude kaathirippinteyum pratheekshayudeyum jwaalayil mungi shirassu muthal ente udalin keezhe vare kariyunnu..shishirakaalathinu munpu thanne njan bhoomiyil
pathiyum ennu thonnunnu..

Aakaashatholam valarnnu panthalichu nilkkunna maavilninnum oela balaheenamaayi kaattil
aadiaadi nananja bhoomiyil pathinju..Ammayude novinaayi orilayude thyaagam..avarude vishaadathinte theevratha sahikkaanaavathe maavinmarathinte oro ilakalum kozhinju veenu..Aakashatholam valarnnu panthalichuninnirunna maavu shishirakaalathinu orupaadu munputhanne nagnayaay..viroopiyay..muttathorabhangiyaayi..pakshe maavinmaram
santhoshavathi aayirunnu..ammayude makan thirike varunnathu vare njan ee muttathu oru vasanthavismayamaaya nagna vrukshamaayi ninnukollam..Aa makanum ammayum orumikkunnathu vare enikkoru vasantha rithuve sweekaaryamalla..avan thirike varunnathu vare ee maavin marathinu elakalude alankaaram venda..
Samir Koosah Aug 2018
A noite chega, soturna, calada. Os remédios parecem não fazer efeito. Sozinho novamente com meus pensamentos, embalado pelo som do ventilador e das batidas do meu coração.
Nao sei porque ele insiste em bater, parece um esforço inútil.
As horas passam lentamente, como nos movimentos de uma duna. A areia do tempo descendo vagarosamente pela ampulheta. Se ao menos pudesse ver. Me sinto cego, queria eu estar cego?
Minha decepção só não é maior que a decepção que causei.
Não há lugar aqui senão neste papel para a dor, uma fraqueza que todos tentam esconder - por questão de sobrevivência provavelmente. Os amigos poucos que me restam seguem suas vidas enquanto tento ser feliz, ao menos por eles.
Saudade aqui toma outras formas, como uma tortura ao melhor estilo Stanley
Kubrick em “Laranja Mecânica”, em que as imagens passam repetidamente por minha cabeça sem que eu possa fazer absolutamente nada.
Família, amigos, amores, à distância de uma chamada, uma chamada. Para quem ligar, como?
O cárcere em sua pior faceta, o isolamento social. Conto nos dedos de uma mão as pessoas com quem consigo manter uma conversa. Mesmo assim nao consigo conversar, a cabeça e o coracao nao estao aqui, eles fugiram, estão lá fora, espero que a minha espera.
Outro cigarro, mais um café. Quantos mais, quantas mais palavras? A caneta e o papel são meus melhores amigos, às vezes até me entendem. Monólogos em horas, diálogos em outras.
Me pergunto qual seria o limite entre a sanidade e a demência aqui. Se é que existe um, estou eu ficando são ou louco?
Nao era quando cheguei, provavelmente foi o que me trouxe aqui, agora só me resta um caminho a seguir e tenho que achá-lo sozinho.
Não tenho arrependimentos, aqui não há lugar para eles, há agora um só caminho a seguir, em frente! Adiante!
Renjith Prahlad Aug 2011
Kalippaattam
------------

              ---Renjith Prahlad
                        (27th AUGUST 2011-12:30AM)



Vimookamaayoru sundara swapnam ente kannukale yaanthrikamaaya ee lokathilninnakatti
bhaavanayile mohanabhoomiyileku yathrayaakkunnu..Ennal Ivide kanunnathu yaadharhyathil
aroopiyaaya ente mohangalude kadanjedutha swaroopangale..ivide kelkkunnathu
yadhaarthyathil uumakalaya prathyaashakalude imbamaarnna prathidhwanikal..
Ivide enne sparshikkunnathu yaadharthyathil maravicha ormakalude jeevanulla viralukal..
Ivide njan anubhavikkunnathu yaadhaarthyathil oru pazhjadamaaya ente, chetananiranja
chalanagal..allayo Swapname ethakshayapaathrathil ninnedukkunnu nee ithratholam
jyothithullikale,ente raathrikalil prakaasham choriyuvaanaayi..Pakshe, oru maathrayude
maathrayolam polum illallo ninte aayussinte dairkhyathinu...Kizhakkile chakavarthiyude
udayam asthamippikkunnathu vimookamaaya aa sundara swapnathinullile sooryane ..
Kizhakkile chakavarthiyude sobha vazhithelikkunnathu swapnathil maathram
swathanthranaya ee kuthirayude adimathwathilekkulla thirichupookkine...


Njan oru kuthirayaanu..jeevashavamaayoru kalippattam..Enikku chaadaam,odaam,
shabdamundaakam..pakshe ellam oru thaakkolinte kanakkinanussarichu..,oru kurunnu
baalante manassinanussarichu..avane rasippikkuvan kazhinjal..avante viralukale
anussarikkan kazhinjal enikku kure neeram chalikkam..kalankamariyaathorukuttiyude
adimayaayi eere naal jeevanillathe jeevikkam..ente suhruthukkale...shashvathamaayoru
maranathe polum aagrahikkan avakaashamillatha ente ee janmam shapikkappettathalle...
Niraveettan aavathillatha Aashaakalum mohangalum ente manassil kumilukalaai pirann
anthimam parasparam thattichithari athmahathya cheyyunnathu shaapameetathinalalle..
avarozhukkiya chorathullikal polum adimakalaakunnathu shapikkappetta ente
manassinullile irunda shoonyathayilalle..Nikoodatha koodukoottiya vanangaliloode
paanju pokuvaan..Marangaleyum pakshikaleyum pinnilaaki kodumkaattinte gathiyepolum
athijeevichu oru kuthirayude lokathekku raapaarkkan..sharamazha peyyunna yudhabhoomiyileekku raajyatinaayi poruthunna sippaikalude naduvileekku, raajaakkanmareyum padathalavanmaareyum purathiruthi avasaana shwasathe sharangal thulachukeerumvare dheeramaayi poraadi maranamadayan oru kuthira aagrahichaal athil thettilla,pakshe oru kalippattam aaya kuthira aagrahichaal
athahankaaramaakunnathengane..Kalippatamenkilum kuthirayalle njanum..Enikku mathram
enthe aagrahangalkku neere kuda nivarthendivarunnathu...Enikkuchuttum maathram enthe
kudakkyu keezhe athimohangal nizhalikkunnathu..

Ennal, Kudaykku keezhile ANDHAKAARAM oru divasam enikku thannu, Irulil janichuveenu
shwethajwaalayayi valarunna swapnangalee..Kalippattamaaya njan annumuthal andhakaarathe
snehichu thudangi....kaaranam Swapnathil njan kalippattamalla..jeevanulla kuthirayaanu..
Njan adimathvatinte theerangalilalla, swaathanthriyathinte ananthasamudrathilaanu..
Vimokamaaya aa sundara swapnam vechuneettiya sowbhagyangale enikku nishedikakkan
kazhinjilla, yaadhaarthyathilekku oru madangipookkinu ente manassu madichu..
swapnavaathilukal orikkalum adayalle ennaashichu..pakshe ente mohangalkkethirayi
swapnasooryan swapnachakravaalathileekasthamichu thudangi..swapnavaathilukal adyaan
thudangi.swapnagale swanthamaakkunna swapnangal kanda njan, ente madagivaravinaay
kaathirikkunna yadharthyathe avaganichu..swapnalokathe sweekarichu..Vilangukal
pottichodunna kuttavaaliye pole njan odirakshappettu..Yaadharthyathinorikkalum
ethippedaan kazhiyaathathra doorangalilekku njan yathrayaay..pakshe, Aashakalum
Mohanglum niraveettiya santhoshathinte velicham amithavegam polinju..Kalippatamaay
jeevichirunna lokathorikalum anubhavappettittillathoru thalarcha ente shareerathe
aswasthamaakki..Marubhoomiyile mantharikal orittu mazhaykkayi kezunnathu pole ente
thondayum oru thullidaahajalathinay karanju..divasangal kadannu poyi..swapnathiloodeyum
narakathe praapikkam ennu njan manassilaakki...Vikruthmaayoru aantharikathe maraykkunna
ente swapnamohangalude kadanjedutha swaroopangalekkal ethrayo dhanyamaanu, roopamillatha
ente yaadarthyamohangal ennu njan manassilaakki..Vilaapaswarangal maathram paadunna ente
swapnamohangalude prathidhwanikalekkal ethrayodhanyamaanu, uumakalaya ente
prathyaashakal, ennu njan manassilaaki.Enne jeevanode njerukkunna ente swapnamohangalude
viralukalekkal ethrayo dhanyamaanu, maravicha ente yaadarthya ormakal ennu njan
manassilakki,Ennil ninnum chethana oottunna ente chethana niranja chalanangalekkal
ethrayo dhanyamaanu,oru kurunnu baalante chundilpirakunna punchiriyude maathru
janmam, oru paazhjadamaaya kalippaattathinte janmam...ennu njan manassilaakki...

         -----------------------------------------------------------------­

Vaathilukal pinnum thurannu.."Madangivaru kalippattame"..Kurunnu baalante chundil veendum
oru niranja punchiri pirannu...

                           -----Renjith Prahlad
I find myself in a reality thoroughly mired;
Hard wired to this dire strait of a habit: to remain inactive;
Actively, though, I find myself being rendered blunt,
Thoroughly ineffective.
Effectively seeing my being contorted into shapes ignoble;
Progressively rendered moot,
Thwarted by my avante garde a la feeble.

And as I face that reality, really all I want to do is
Relay these reverberations that
Go thump! thump! whenever we meet;
Convey these fizzles that turn my stomach outside and in
Whenever we share an embrace to greet.
Can I rely on my grammar to share my emotions?
Or are her stories old news now?
I guess what I'm saying is:
Can I speak?

Can I, nay, may I deliver my formal interjection?
That my emotion towards you is still a subject;
That I'm hoping in my heart that the idea of "us" does not
Come across as abject;
Or imitate a noun and become an idea that is abstract?
Because what I'm going for here is for our souls to find contact;
And as I fill these blank spaces with hope;
What I hope most for,
Is that my sincerity really comes to the fore;
That you understand that I'm not here selling dreams and lifestyles;
But rather that I want to bring them to life before your eyes.

So can I speak?
Can I tell you of the hope you carry?
Can I tell you of the joy you bring?
Can I speak? Tell you everything?
If not, can I at least tell you
How crazy you drive this thing? (point to heart)
Amy Grindhouse Jan 2014
In the murky clots of consciousness
between sleep and awakening
we clung to an icy overpass railing
spitting down on graffiti camouflaged
train cars as their charging rickety
boom carried our uncontrollable laughter
toward destinations unknown
Our spirited tenacity was matched only by
turbulent winds whipping us into submission
Forcing us to brace ourselves to avoid getting
swept away
You tumbled backward off the slick rounded bars
of the overpass rail
and bit your lip so hard
I thought you would need stitches
but you kept on smiling as the blood plummeted
dripping all over the tracks in a sanguinary frost
Feeling arrogant and invincible
like two avante guarde dog soldiers
we marched past our old urban battlefields and
grimy fast food cattle fields
closed in on a ramshackle bar
and drowned our taboos and inhibitions in
foam drenched pitchers until we closed out that
ramshackle bar
We gleefully stumbled
wearing hazy street light halos
back to the
duplexed squalor of my doorstep
Sloppy kisses stained with the scent of
cheap beer completed the night
as we tore into each other and
made love on that ratty creaking mattress in the front
room
All I had at the time to rest on
was that ***** old bed
and you
until several months later
when they confined you to
pristine hospital beds instead
Intravenous deceptions and false hope blood tests followed
but even with all the motions of our modern medical drama
we couldn't avoid you getting slowly swept away
I regret never having the strength or honesty to visit you
just as I regret never telling anyone about you and I
I go hang on that overpass railing sometimes
remembering the knock-down-drag-out-reckless perfection
of that night
knowing that my agonizing love for you should
have been something I proudly proclaimed to the world
Now the trains carry away my atrocious wails
as the weight of my shame
nearly pulls me onto the tracks
and spills my insides in sacrificial testament
to all we've lost
Rachel Anderson Sep 2010
I searched high and low to find you a present
But nothing could quite represent to the fullest extent
These feelings that I have for you
That I can only try to construe;
           These words:
                                        I love you

So I made you this card
To try and be avante garde,
And though the prices were low
I just want you to know that
The sound of your voice makes me want to rejoice,
The sight of your face makes me want to embrace,
And that this card is to the girl who has such stlye,
    Who always knows how to make me smile.
And this is to the girl who plays the bass guitar,
    I love the way that you are.
And this is to the girl who is always so nice,
    Who never fails to entice.
And this is to the girl who is so pristine,
    Who is all about scene,

I hope you have a wonderful sixteen.
By: Cody Youngblood, my boyfriend. Written to me for my 16th birthday.
goatgirl Aug 2013
raw
they're fascinated by my
soul's avante-guarde ******,
and how much of it i bare.

they don't know that i feel every breeze,
and mere dust particles can adhere to my ****** surface,
muscles operating in constant fear of being punctured
ShamusDeyo Jul 2016
Abstracted Painting
.
print in
.
black and white
,
as if
,
they paint
,
the page
.
hues of blues
.
or of
.
Langston Hughes
.
the page roils the spirits
.
to anger red
.
that fades
.
to shades
.
to purples and blues

Avante-Garde, Hipster, Beat Poet Words and sound of Celebration
Graphic Painting done by me Shamus.Media,Arts
www,shamusmediarts.com  © a month ago, SilverSilkenTongue
This was based of an abstract Painting of Mine and can be seen in whole @ an-irish-poet.yolasite.com
KRRW Aug 2017
An anxious amortal
archnemesis
affectionately
allowing an amoral
animosity
achieve an attitudal
agressive and aversion against
any and all
annoying,
aggravating,
afflicting,
and almost annihilating
alliterations,
although all
aforementioned actions
are absolutely
artificial.



An amiable
abomination
and architectural abuse
at an alphabet achieved
after aesthetically
arranging ample
arbitrary
alternatives alone,
amounting an acclamation.



An affinity at
awkward avante-garde arts
arising at
an astronomical acceleration,
aside an archaic
argumentum ad
antiquitatem argument
awfully appraising
an atheistic and agnostic
apparition,
anthrophomorphically
alive and apparently
alright after asphyxiation,
alluding an astral authority
absolving accusations
and all allegations.



An advantageously
astute and adroit assassin
always actively
acting and assaulting
alone, ain't assisted
anyhow,
already
antiquating auxillaries
altogether.



An alliteratious afterfocus:
Aborting all anticipations.
Anticipating affirmative antagonizations.
All are alright.
Already airtight.
Adios, amigos.



Author: anonymous,
an acorn-afflicted,
assassinatrix affiliate.
attributed as Agent Argent.
Written
04 July 2016


Genre
Alliterature


Copyright
© Khayri R.R. Woulfe. All rights reserved.
Amy Grindhouse May 2016
At some point
I got really into
this radical
pretend revolutionary
mocking revolutions
trash pop art
where it was about
not writing
beautiful or
compelling things anymore
but just regurgitating raw
thoughts and avante garde musings
onto the page
like careless splashes of paint
red and black -
- black and read
- read in blackest humor
sense in the senseless
nonsensical. -
No hallowed grounds -
no safe spaces -
no trigger warnings -
or safety switches -
No structure
no reason
trash trash trash trash
with maybe
just a hint
that buried beneath
this landfill dissection lab
of grotesque disregard
a muted glint of
grace and hope
yearns to be shared
once more
We drank the kool aide
fist  pumping to the latest
Pseudo avante avante
Guarde ruse
Proclaiming we were
already there-
that there was something we knew
but could not explain
Something like Jesus

But definitely not Him
You were either cool
or you weren't
A perfect defense
No problem
This was the end
terribly groovy
An absurdity that could not
be factored-
And wow we were there
At the end and it
Was a joke
Way beyond the Beatles
Beyond apology
Like the grasses we were
Obedient only to the wind
and the fire
and the air
was full of the sounds  of
the crackling of
An inaudible laughter
Gabriela Jimenez Aug 2010
A week ago I never knew
That an avant garde
music style existed

I also never knew that
it would remind me so much
Of you

With your looks
and stares
always knowing what to say
without moving

But of course all good things
come to an end.

Like when I found out
Avante Garde
doesn't really have to
many bands

and that  I never really
liked you.
D28 2010
Llovizna abrillanta-asfaltos
de la dormida calleja.
                              Llovizna canta-en-la-reja,
                              llovizna arrulla-a-la-oreja,
                              -escala de los asaltos
                              (Julieta habita en los altos.)
                              de Romeo-: historia añeja.

Llovizna moja-que-moja
trovador de Alda o Mafalda,
nocharniego rima-balda
cuyo manteo sofalda
-para colmo a su congoja-
la ventisca, y lo sonroja:
trovero-desnuda-espalda...

                              Llovizna pica y repica
                              con su yeloso goteo
                              por el raído manteo
                              del aterido Romeo:
                              si el balcón cierra la rica
                              -fembra, asaz se simplifica
                              la acción de Tristán e Iseo...

Llovizna llueve-que-llueve,
llovizna cala-que-cala.

                              Presto apróntale la escala,
                              pronto el partido por gala
                              en dos alista: a que pruebe
                              tu licor cálido ****,
                              cuaderno-azul-bajo-el-ala,
es decir vate-que-bate,
rimador rima-que-rima,
harpa-al-hombro, laúd-mima,
vihuela-pellizca, o lima
-violín, o teclas-abate...
                              Campo-de-pluma, el combate,
                              ****, de amor, se aproxima:
                              Campo-de-plumas, apresta
                              **** (Iseo, Isolda, Alda,
                              Julieta, Dido o Mafalda):
trovador-lira-a-la-espalda
apercibe su ballesta
y el dardo certero asesta
que clavar ha en tu guirnalda.

                              **** (Mafalda, Alda, Dido,
                              Iseo, Julieta, Isota,
                              Ulalume, ya remota,
                              Xatlí, morena-de-oliva,
                              Eglé, blonda delusiva,
                              deswertherada Carlota,
                              Ofelia ofélida ignota,
                              fugadas en el olvido):

Llega el trovador transido
-rota flámula en derrota,
rota flámula hecha criba,
gonfalón deshecho hecho
girón: pero avante el pecho
trae el trovador maltrecho
pujante: y en su lasciva
boca, el ascua-siempre-viva
que hoguera será en el lecho.
james nordlund Jan 2020
As an oak will not grow in another's shadow,
so too our struggles, solutioning with reality
while as one and three, a couple in harmony,
must also be independent to whatever degree.

Thus, being as water, yin, and as air, yang, we
find a dance gestured by seasons of romance.
The choreographer's mind's path undefined,
like last moment's awe makes way for this one's.

A canvas with frameless frame and reality
as the brush painting us, even it's shadows
speak of light.  Beingness as gleaned meanings
for all to share, seen through, if we were there.

A cacaphony, symphony heralding
song of the Universe, Earth and spheres.
From adagio, staccato, through to avante-garde.
Life sung accompanying the abundance of joy's Spring.

As poetry's music fathoms the depths of our heart,
heights of our intellect and imagination,
breadth of our spirit, well of our soul,
alluding to the unknown saliently.

Also, climate crisis demands a bond of Earthlings
stronger than ever before, and he or she
must be at the fore', if they want their progeny
community, partner, humanity to even live.
First draft.  Few love song titles come to mind to inspire   :)   'looks like we made it'; 'you're still the one'; 'no ordinary love'; 'aloha'; 'this love'; 'love stays'; 'i won't go for more'; 'concerto de aranjuez'; 'white flag'; 'thank you'; 'i can't make you love me'; 'love's in need of love today'; 'could  you be loved'; 'bring me your cup'; 'soldier of love'; 'rise'; 'the rose'; '**** i wish i were your lover'; 'oro se do bheatha bhaile'; 'nothing compares to you'; 'candles in the rain'; 'woodstock'; 'for free'; 'all about our love'; 'power of love'; 'my heart will go on'; 'crazy'; 'i will always love you'; 'i want to know what love is'; 'Merry Christmas mr lawrence'; 'either or both'; 'never letting go'; 'love don't live here anymore'; wishing on a star'; 'first time ever i saw your face'; 'i love you just because'; 'through the fire'; 'sweet love'; just the two of us'; ''ain't no sunshine when she's gone'; 'this will be'; 'got to be real'; 'angel'; 'this is it'; 'in your eyes'; 'what i am'; 'i do'; 'love like we do'; 'always on my mind'; 'shout'; 'in the air tonight'; 'the pina colada song'; 'all around the world'; 'un-break my heart'; 'ain't nobody'; 'just be good to me'; 'fire on babylon'; 'love's a battlefield'; 'don't dream it's over'; 'warpaint'; 'words weren't made for cowards'; 'sangria'; 'i hope you dance'; 'cowboy take me away'; 'lines in the balance'; 'colour of your dreams'; 'now and forever'; 'only love is real'; 'one more try'; 'like a prayer'; 'reach'; 'if'; 'what if'; 'higher ground'; 'river of souls'; 'torn'; 'one'; 'pride'; 'great love'; 'you were meant for me'; 'what about love'; 'love is blind'; 'you are love'; 'ghost dance'; 'huron beltane fire dance'; 'natural mystic'; 'less os more'; 'hissing of summer lawns'; 'forgetting ohio'; 'thank you (2)'; 'break your heart'; 'you've gotta be'; 'everybody hurts'; 'go your own way'; 'holding back the years'; 'the look of love';'as i lay me down'; 'the jungle line'; 'the beat of black wings'; 'pull up to the bumper'; 'rolling in the deep'; 'one man one vote'; 'together we rise'; 'smile'; 'feelings'; 'when we were young'; 'make you feel my love'.  May this New Year find you All new, everyday, all the way through   :)   reality
Jay earnest Nov 2023
Avante garde in the sense that meaning is an accident
If I shot myself now
I could only wonder if you ever truly loved me
Or if it was conditional like everything else,,;
Jay earnest May 2018
It's sad that this all just goes into a  box.
just like a music genre.

it's metal,
it's pop,

it's progressive jazz,

it's Spanish celtic gypsy music,

electronic
banana  
avante garde.


Into the box it goes,   locked away   ,    and enjoyed

carefully
While yours truly sat here
at the desk housing MacBook Pro,
pondering his next idée fixe apropos
for gamut of anonymous readers,
he unexpectedly, noisily and effectually
exploded out rear end;
perhaps ye heard or felt
the ground beneath your feet tremble;
the missus didst not stir in her sleep
yesterday (May 29th, 2023)
when my troubles
seemed so far away.

Jog me memory I did
with a little help figuratively
nabbed, pilfering, ransacking, et cetera
compilation of previously written poems
which involved scrolling thru
screen after screen of feeble attempts
to craft some stellar literary creation.

Worm I going with this line?

Just by a fluke,
I came across a scenario
where humorous embellishment
will (clear as water) diminish credence,
but slight fabrication will help revival
encompassing an outing with then girlfriend,
who eventually became the missus.

Upon the first date (mucho decades ago)
not quite two score
and three and a half years ago
with the gal, whose troth
aye did pledge allegiance to wed
(anniversary inching itsy bitsy
spider like up to
seven and twenty earth orbitz),
we agreed to dine
at an avante garde Tex-Mex eatery

in North Wales, Pennsylvania,
where angels feared to tread
carefully scrutinizing bon appétit
the menu selection,
a touch of Latin lick QED
all American version sans
south of the border cuisine –
Quod Erat Demonstrandum –
translations spit out
in rapid fire Hispanic

by a beady eyed
pierced and inked kid named Ned,
whose couture favored a punkish style
with spiky gelled green hair,
piercings galore and necklace
with a genetically modified
sizable entombed glassy pricey jewelry
encased insect in amber lead,
which beastly fully intact organism
with a miniature grizzly bear like head
momentarily hypnotizing me

pray tell, yours truly nudged himself
out of trance sans this egghead
who made a selection
by randomly landing finger
on an item feigning to be well bred
unbeknownst choice promised
concussive radioactive fallout
squelched with utmost difficulty
nearly impossible mission
to avoid loosing buttuck blast

if belched out the posterior;
**** would have catapulted,
delivered fatalistic deafening roar
wreaking havoc to life and limb
costing countless lives
regarding innocent restaurant patrons,
whose arbitrary choice
to partake of their repast
at aforementioned *****
unnamed restaurant analogous
ending with tragicomic farce.

After this Señor ingested
an ample number of mouthfuls
of beans and rice
that quelled most severe hunger pangs
mine lower gastrointestinal tract,
felt a bubbling and gurgling sensation
played through impropriety struggled
with gaseous mounting perturbations,
what promised to be hot malodorous,
would induce an air raid

from this “wind bag,”
(whose puckered, preserved, pickled, et cetera
and stinky namesake
occupies a place
at the Mutter Museum,
whose saving grace erroneously divine),
when wallet of suede discover herd
visa vis tubby devoid of cash,
thus convenient excuse to beat
the tirade of volcanic eruption
on the cusp of belching forth
found me bolting out the restaurant door
fortunately not waylaid

and madly dashing
(like some fiery comet dancer)
performing a cheeky number
hopping on one foot than the other –
since forceful blast triggered kidneys
to be tapped, thus prancer two step
extemporaneously incorporated
while awaiting available ATM
only to espy debit printout slip
inadequate funds available
zero balance in checking account.

While expulsion of noxious fumes
from thine sphincter courtesy  
brought relief as aye nonchalantly
prior to strolling inside cozy diner,
and slipped into me seat disinclined
to relate eave vents to future spouse,
the ****** aeration and stream of *****
(freed to water secluded copse)
from me magic flute which,
amazingly synchronized
with the Maximus glute
after consuming food
triggered ***** to toot.

Nevertheless, shortfall of legal tender
unfortunately and subsequently found
yours truly shackled,
impressed, forced, et cetera
as dishwashing galley slave
dashed mine coveted
bowed need for highstrung Cupid
annihilating, detonating,
hexing, et cetera
opportunistic spell
to don and trumpet myself
as artful dashing romancer.
also known as
noteworthy Trader Joe's patrons
bass sic lee did treble themselves
conducting taping jam session
assembling (boxing), compiling,
and hermetically sealing tight as a drum so,
a razor sharp machete blade got dull
trying to open in vain said holiday cheer
of awesome delicious goodies,
(especially the yummy

stuffed vine leaves with rice),
which holiday care package
received without fanfare
for this common man,
whose younger sister
(vibrant as Appalachian Spring),
nevertheless wiser sibling
Shari Harris-Dunning
a **** (hard) at work
tantalizing, teasing, titillating
as a lead wrapper from home grown

organic foodstuffs, she and her bandmates
helped fit perfectly, meticulously,
and snugly together
analogous to outsize constituent components
of intricate jumbo puzzle pieces
amazingly, mathematically,
and thematically linkedin
bearing gifts subsequently mailed
(courtesy the United States Postal Service)
from Bend, Oregon
to Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.

Lemme amplify how creative, innovative,
and opinionative yours truly (me)
a humble wordsmith,
who exhibits his freestyle trademark
Scottish matted style avante-garde,
one run of the mill (by the Floss) bard
wannabe wants to rave about your card,
he presumes unbridled
posthumous fame will ensue
after his lovely bones disintegrate
courtesy cremation, which cremains
symbolically distributed across

all four points across the globe,
cuz the earth will solely serve him
as eternal terrestrial graveyard
ashes repurposed hard
to believe buzzfeeding, jump/
kick starting seeds of life
and white lily obliterating ill-starred
legacy which afflicted one mortal
named Matthew Scott Harris,
whose chronic assault
with mental health issues
undermined realizing his potential.

Into the void of cosmic oblivion
eventually goeth as masterly cell bait,
the once unique human
(cited above) as scripted inevitable fate
of all creatures great and small
death promises to liberate
uniting one garden variety,
and generic soul
linkedin among Spiritus Mundi
a never ending tête-à-tête.

— The End —