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Irate Watcher Nov 2014
You three believe in creating scarcity,
NOT union.
You build HOV lanes for your luxury cars,
caring less how efficient they are.
They roll royce cross your game board,
fuming trails of money.
Bell Atlantic bought Madison Avenue,
you bought all the properties.
Now tenants can't avoid
the traffic or the noise
of an internet rolled in palms
and diced
spiraling
to speed limits
...
...
...
...
and red highways
...
...
...
...
and orange traffic cones that
block hybrid cars,
already swerving
to avoid bankruptcy.
We
STOP
the
STOP
people
STOP
moving,
our preamble crumbles to a
STOP,
becoming a eulogy —
an ideal dumb to power trippery,
after Time Warner and Comcast merged,
allies on opposite sides of the game board.

Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
together you own pretty much
everyone but Fox and Disney,
(yet have invested in them heavily).

Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
your oligarchy is
NBC, Universal, CNN, Warner Brothers,
and now FullScreen,
family-friendly nepotism
that inbreeds bearing
deaf drones bored of flying,
over
Why Beyonce is a Feminist.
or
Why Ferguson was racist,
media's offspring
just keep clicking,
the headline genocide victims
basking in concentrated lamps
for a sliver of attention.

Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;
Now you want the backend buffering,
bulging eyes and emptying pockets
of those Spocked into believing,
hyperspeed was ever necessary.
No choice when the exits are slow
and there are no backroads.

Verizon, Comcast, AT&T;,
offspring of the
Bell Atlantic Company,
we will not let your
****** populate the internet.
Call it Capitalism,
but your playing Monopoly,
yanking the carpet underneath
to the wood of Tyranny.
You shamed
Bell's invention
by stringing together
telephone
internet,
and
entertainment companies
until you could be lazy.
Monkeys who spent millions
to shriek at government parties
about the communication machine,
a system downloaded so slowly,
we
did
not
act
on
cons
piracy
theories,
when Amazon made online shopping so easy.

Dear Internet Service Providers,
so called ISP's,
WE ARE DONE playing Monopoly.
Our collective voice
will shout blasphemy
on your streets,
hashtagged
net neutrality,
till you're counting pennies.
So empty your Washington banks
cause it's 3 a.m. and
no ONE is winning.
This is it. The FCC's plan to slow down the internet is going to hurt the sites we love like HP. Join the emergency protests around the U.S. and show Obama that we will accept nothing less than a free internet.
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#protest?t=dXNlcmlkPTU1MzE3MTkyLGVtYWlsaWQ9OTI2NA==

Why is net neutrality important, you say?
This recent article offers a brief summary:  http://www.entrepreneur.com/article/239251
Hands Jun 2012
I float outside of my body,
a dermal prison dented into the ground,
doomed to never fly and never float
and never travel beyond the sound.
My brain moves faster than a
high speed train,
cars in the fast lane,
the pounding of the rain,
sane,
sane--
I've gone insane.
It's infuriating
this
plastic mind,
soul,
body,
all disposable and
all utterly insignificant.
I know the fate of history
and the destiny of humanity--
we are temporary,
a dream stuck on a floating grain
in the misty seas of the cosmos,
swirling towards a black death
darker than any night or
any universe could be.
We are a fleeting thought
caught within the arms and tendrils of the galaxy,
draining into an immense
super massive
black hole--
the drain at the bottom.
We are accidents,
sad ones, at that.
The stars formed randomly from
the collisions and crashes of
millions of atoms,
perhaps themselves
the containers of still sadder
and more pathetic universes.
From this early crib
Sol and his brothers drifted throughout the blackness of space,
most dying and
the mediocre remaining.
This is the fate of humans
and indeed all of existence:
that the interesting
the beautiful
the bizarre and
the intense shall all perish
while the average shall
survive, stuck on their tracks
and predetermined paths,
lines laid out by the random assortment
of atoms, of particles
of the refuse of the universe.
We formed from the cosmos' ****;
an explosion erupted from
the backend of existence
and out flowed reds and greens
helium and hydrogen
and burning water.
As the planets formed
from the wake of the exhaust
and the stars migrated to their final resting places,
the elements continued bumping
and colliding and crashing
until green ran the continents of countless and
insignificant planets, residents sticking roots down
and extending towards the mediocre light
of a wholly average Sun.
From this green and blue sea sprang forth
a multitude of parasites,
feeding off the grasses and the ferns,
the flowers and the moss,
warring and ******* and
laying their own universes down out of
their backends.
We are the **** of **** that ***** out **** to
power our **** and allow us to ****
which in turns ***** the ****
to ****.
It's all ****.
Existence is ****.
Existence is ****.
I am a dream in the mind of one
floating off into my dimension,
moving faster than sound,
light,
actions and existence
to cross the cosmic walls and
climb the galactic ivy
to reach out and say,
"I was here. I mattered."
I wish I could comfort them in my arms
to pet them and tell them it's all okay,
that they matter, but I know the fate of history
and the destiny of humanity--
existence is the most interesting thing we can do,
and even that is based on mediocre ****.
Luke OReilly Apr 2011
Stomach ulcers wait for me
acid reflux looms
Bloated Belly
Backend bother
Doctors waiting rooms.

And still I wolf down whiskey
and guzzle gassy stout
and wake at dawn
a can in hand
in the middle of a roundabout.

For whats the point of living
if living is a chore
some love life without drinking
I find I enjoy it more.
DAEJR Oct 2014
Red reeds and a freckle of flowers bowing
before rubber wheels
tossing pebbles and sand and a whirlwind of dust.

Their plan had caught wind and taken flight against them,
like an ardent breath that leaps from battle chests
that knowingly march somewhere behind the tall thick of trees.

The rain won the sprint before the inky giants (stuck in the review mirror)
and began to speckle the seats from the gaping sunroof,
but the lovers hadn’t noticed.

Their hearts beat in unison, adrenaline seemingly driving the engine.
Four, bone-white knuckles chocking to hang on:
one pair on the steering wheel, one on the other’s shoulder, and one on the door handle.

The tires drop off and bash themselves against the stones
beneath a spray of clay and water and maggots,
as they swerve off the beaten path.

They wade through the churning waves of grasses
the wind now rushing past, splashing against their spine –
their naked necks and tangled locks swimming in the invisible rapids.

Their sanctuary lay before the whirlpools,
deeply rooted, scarred with letters, scarred with hearts,
and beautifully draped with thin weeping twigs, tied off with lace.

The car’s backend swung as the tires drifted.
The two men flung themselves inside the umbrella of branches,
untied the lacy bows, and drew the curtains closed

The willow tree would have to stand in for their officiant,
for their family, their friends, their honored guests and witnesses,
for they had none.

They both stood in front of the tree as the wind swayed,
once from behind him, and then once from behind him,
all the while their tearful eyes exchanged  silent “I dos”.

The one reached inside a burrow beneath the great trunk,
to retrieve their rings and crowns of flowers,
while the other anxiously stood watch behind him, awaiting the thunder.

Gentle hands ringed their fingers with silver bands,
and crowned their heads with white and blue petals,
then carefully chiseled into the bark their names and their heart with a pocket knife.

The two men pressed their palms to the tree to receive their blessing,
and then pressed their lips together, now salty and wet,
sealing their souls with a slow passionate kiss.

But instead of a burst of rice freely sprinkling the atmosphere
there was a burst of shotgun pellets
tearing through the whispers of love and leaves.

The men sprinted to the car,
dodging the fires of intimidation,
and drove off with their life, leaving behind the fear and shame.

They turned on the heater to try to warm up.
but it was long before they were dry,
the rain’s echo nearly drowning out the sounds of their shared breaths.
A little unsure about the title, but for now. . .
Megan Dec 2018
13.


The year my innocence was stolen by you, an evil man who preyed on the vulnerability of mere children.

Held me down when I squirmed in discomfort as you forced your thick finger inside of my ****** body, stretching me far beyond my limit. Silencing my frightened cries with assurements. You held my hand as you repeatedly slid your finger inside of me, telling me this unbearable pain was common.

Initiated a connection between us, that quickly expanded to include physical touch; a highly inappropriate action in such an innocent setting. You bent me over at my waist and pressed your ******* into my backend. My mom sat feet away as you fondled my rear.

Rested your hand on my nearly non-existent *******. You wrapped your hand around my waist, pulling me into your side. You draped your arm over my shoulder, allowing yourself to caress my undeveloped chest.

Talked with the utmost amount of charm. You warmly welcomed me into your office with open arms, to which I naively thought was you being kind. You referred to me as “sweetheart”. You told me I had a cute ****. You made me blush, but I did not notice how closely your eyes examined my being, staring at my most secretive parts with a gaze that penetrated clothing.

Exerted your strength, your power, your dominance. You physically restrained me, applying brute force and physical pressure upon my small body as I subtly attempted to create space between us, recognizing I feared your touch, yet not comprehending how sinful the actions you performed were. You controlled my movements. You ordered that I undress to undergo your treatment. I stood before you in a gown untied in the back, my ******* peeking through. You bunched the material of the gown above my narrow hips, allowing you to toy with the bow on the front of my flamingo-themed underwear. To think this was the most innocent touch you shared with my body as your fingers swiftly delved further, completely disregarding the cloth barrier that meant to keep you away from my most feminine structure.

Evaluated my condition by allowing your warm hands to sweep over my mound, brushing against my folds, pausing at my inner thighs and repeating this vicious cycle for an hour. Once you were satisfied you had acquired a sustainable amount of ****** indulgence, you enveloped my body into yours, hugging me tight before bidding farewell. Promising his sweetheart that the pain would lessen if I continued with his treatments.

Never will I ever regain the purity you ripped away from me. Was the pain you have caused me worth the pleasure you received from my adolescent body?

13.
TRIGGER WARNING
derick gibbs May 2014
there's nothing personable about wintry skies above the boston harbor
it gets ugly along the ridgepole of rhode island and providence plantations
this time of year

i ink off the dome
along the varicose veins of these violent streets

we smash more
because life indoors
is the gateway to new manners
or points of psychosis
if your boo doesn't get you
enough to get along

it storms snow where we bump

some think it's fine
or that it's by design lakes freeze over here
and mold mirrors made with angels in mind
but it's a terrific tragedy
the death of colors, inhibitions and innocence
choked away from the branches certain seasons undress

the way no one knows enough to mourn

but mother nature's a chameleon
and new england is the skin that won't keep

it's the backend of the wannabe springtime middays in may
when shorties lose their minds again
a few hours every other day
rock cutoffs and capris
because the sun showed her shine again

but she's so premature
and we've dreamed dreams before this way
against the grain
so we get high to get by like smokeheads do

but i need something sexier to wake up to
like garden birds and backyard bird feeders
american robins and the orioles
that i imagine must use their sugar water to maintain better bongs

because it's a slow burn...
the backside of northeastern calendar months

and my consequent mood swings
are 1 of 2 things that need adjusting
but it is what it is, and too cold anyway
so smiles crack beneath the pressure
like glass poets in poetry slams
#IMUPDREAMIN
PrttyBrd Feb 2015
In the darkness of night
Searching for that lost ship
That pulled into port without a sound
Searching sans lighthouse
In the reflection of a new moon
Every variation of wave
Sounding like the possibility of you
Worry and wonder and what ifs
And the demons, they laugh
For my heart knows
Though my head plays damaged films
On a shoddy projector
Everything is a possibility
Without a thought of a word
No notice
Not a crumb tossed to a bright little brd
No thoughts of a vacant soul
Long out of mind
Though never out of heart
Peaceful slumber
Feels like punishment
Feels like the possibility of spite
I don't know
Until i know
Even though I've always known
Spirits torn and taped in love
Have yet to set in glue
A broken mind skewed to darkness
Leaves another sleepless night
In the wake of the dawn
As the captain, comfortably in port,
Looks over the ocean
The starless sky a backend blue
Falling out in peaceful slumber
While tears fill the ocean
With thoughts of you
22115
PoETE Poet-Pete May 2015
You work with a powerless handmade heart, in which you let me conceive from the start, dismantled words that were never set free, here's my chance for you to be me, now tighten that noose we are about to ride, these feelings inside I can no longer hide, true emotions that tend to spill, until I drown in my soul, and prey my ****, like a plan gone bad with no excuse, my labor adds up but there is no use, nothing to win and nothing to lose, my entire life with you I had no clue, open your mind and stop and think, that what you've done has made you sink, to the backend of the ocean where no one swims, I see you float with broken limbs, poison control is my title, my name tag reads "strictly suicidal", with God as my witness and satan as your idle, your breathe will stop at your next trial.....
Past life experiences, careful putting all of your eggs in 1 basket., might actually open up your casket.....women are women but a real women is a real
women.


All
Content
Written by
PoETEPETE
{2000 ~~ 2015}
~©~ Protected & never neglected.
J M Surgent Aug 2012
There was a time I’d wait for days to hear your voice,
Over the phone, under the table, through the radio
To hear you whisper my name,
And now I long for silence.

The way you sang with the wind as I drove too fast
Down backend roads and up empty streets,
And you thought I couldn’t hear you;
And now I long for silence.

And I waited for days on end by the telephone on my nightstand
Listening so hard for the telltale signs of a ringing heart,
Wanting only to hear your voice call mine back,
And now I long for silence.

Quiet used to be so deafening, like sirens blaring,
I could feel it, I hated how it hung in the air all around my head.
I’ve since found peace in the absence of your sound,
And now I love the silence.
Indeed, software development is my sport.
My passion looks posh, but it’s not classy for real.
My craving looks classy, but it’s not stylish for real.
Design, coding, testing, and maintaining code is my sport.
Yes, coding is fun, yes debugging code is my sport.
Yes, how I make it, I google it, I download it for real.
Stackoverflow, the problem solver, I love you for real.
Stackoverflow, the wiser- ******* of my sport.

Again and again, this business is cool to run.
Just a computer, internet, and electricity, I get started.
Just business information technology is my department.
Bring those headphones and that laptop bag for my project runs.
Just a business-minded introvert, that’s how I get started.
Just mathematics makes me excel in my web backend department.

Written By: The Senior Date: 12/11/2021
-The Vision
KG Jan 2021
The past is history
The present is a gift
The future is rife with mystery and cheap tricks. Pain as well but bygons are bygons so take a seat.
Sit.
You're making me nervous, relax and watch the passage of time where all plans backend the truck in front of us.
Everyone's ******, I'd hope so, there's 7 billion people who still believe their plans laid out are worth believing.
My plans are laid out like legos, so I can crush them myself. Necessary if I plan to build her a palace beneath the worlds problems, just gotta keep up my health
The virus being thirty three and a third recurring and running at thirty per second becomes wearing,
you may notice that this observation takes no account of medicine or mathematics relying instead on amateur dramatics and rehearsal rooms in the backend of beyond belief.

I never knew so many had a clue
and even more of them know what to do,
perhaps
I should have studied harder,

but!
inject yourself with bleach?
now
that's a presidential peach
and
I must be a plum.
Travis Green Feb 2023
I wanna settle down
In his powerful, towering mantuary
Serve his flashy spectacular rareness
Comply with his wicked system
Of erotically red-hot laws

Marvel at his blossoming
And eye-popping body
How his slick, brick-solid pecs steal the show
My dramatic jacked lad
I wanna grove on his smoothness

Let my hands peruse the sensual surface
Of his bold noteworthy abs
Stroke his raw, macho backside
Taste his sweet tight manhole
Massage his jaw-droppingly enthralling walls
With my long, skilled fingers

Drown in his bright, appetizing delights
Devour his warm, mesmerizing insides
Listen to his wild enticing moans
The more I conquer his tightness
Spread his *** cheeks

Open him up more and more
Take my time to tantalize
His dreamy manly entrance
Romance him to perfection
Undress his submerged mind

Make relentless supreme love
To his remarkably overarching machoness
Smoke his emotions
Travel deep into his luridly alluring forest
Of marvelous, mysterious magicalness

Worship his eatable irresistible treats
Make it my top priority to seize
And please his creamy concealed secrets
Make him grit his teeth and bear it
Slobber all over it, lick it like scrumptious whipped cream

Inhale his sagacious salacious captivatingness
Sniff his smooth, fragrant hairs
Drive him highly insane
Keep him occupied
With my fiery spellbinding action

Bite into his tight muscular ***
Allow him to feel my formidable translucent teeth
Freak his completeness
Sign my name all over his splendidly stupendous backend
Spend minutes without end sinking into him

Meander into the freshalicious
Headline-worthy elements
Of his substantially enamoring manfulness
Keep on eating his yummy youthful *****
Demolish his saucy kissable hotness

So sweet and deliciously intriguing
I wanna be ***** deep in his hyper-hot hypnotizing heat
Solace his top-notch **** socket
**** his long, super strong pipe from behind
Lather it with my astonishingly hot spit

******* it, charm his dope dome
Render him thunderstruck
So lovestruck and sauced up
Envelop him in my heavenly luscious seductiveness
Make him melt with my every supple, mellow touch

Make him high while my mouth
Collides with his divine dynamite crown
****** ******* into his slipperiness
That sends shivers everywhere
On his radtastically flabbergasting architecture

Let my tongue run up and down
His velvet monolithic pump handle
Get him in the groove with my gayness
Allow my flaming fire-red passion
Course through his core

Whisper soft words in his ear
Kiss him immensely
Bewitch him, eclipse him, feel him deeply
Be his unbelievably exotic speed
****** his soul with my savage *****

Send him to the moon and back
With my banging head game
Suffuse him with my inexpressibly keen and tempting spice
Cause him to have a mind-boggling eruption
Of honeyed hot ***** as I digest every drop of it
Don’t let me fall from grace or the high clouds that I’ve worked so hard to get to & don’t let me parish before I know how much I mean to you for this life of ours isn’t guaranteed to see the sunny rays of tomorrow or forget the cloudy days of yesterday

Don’t let me cry if life gets hard & I see no further reason to live anymore cause I’m tired of the pain inside that I can’t seem to let go of or the happiness that I’m too in fear to reach because of the potential end that may come on the backend as a result to happiness not being forever

Don’t let me go to sleep existing in a nightmare that’s never ending when I’m looking for my dream that may seem to be lost within my fantasy world & when I look around, it’s only me alone looking up to the clouds waiting to wake up again

The next chapter won’t begin until I find the source of joy that I’ve been waiting to see but my own insecurities have blinded me from right in front of me & that’s the love of someone who truly wants to love me although she’s seen that diamond with the cracks but still appreciates the value
Travis Green May 2023
He is the mad keen supreme prince of my dreams
So irresistibly fresh and lekker to the max
Tatted, beardtastic, and swagtastic
I wanna swim in his blissfully bedazzling splashiness
Dive into his saucy chocolate factory
To marvel at his passionate rad majesty

Feel his flawless stalwart pecs
His flat, rad abs, lick every fraction
Of his sexually strapping masterpiece
Feel the awesome hardness
Of his pumped-up crunk lusciousness

So untouchable and studalicious
So slick and sweet it
I crave to stay in his super sensational man cave
Take great satisfaction in his magically majestic phenomenality
My jolly hot property, my top-notch raw marvel

I cherish his verve, how he unearths my inner world
Makes me thirst for immersiveness
Service his entireness, ******* his fat magic pipe
Play with his crackerjack **** sack
Move my mouth up and down

Tame the crown, astound his frame
Make him so insanely feverish
While I delight in him like red licorice twists
Grab his **** tight backend
Feel everything that is intensely dreamy within him

Marvel at his solidly sculpted work of art
He opens my eyes to a bright wide-ranging paradise
Of indescribable new-found passion
So hella sensual and adventurous
He is one hell of a hunkish thuggish lad

I am so mad about his skillful manful exquisiteness
So lost in his assertive treasured rareness
Show him my bag of tricks
As I get lit with his ****
Attack his horse-hung thunderstick

Make him move his limbs all around
Drown myself in his impeccably
Delectable and arresting splendiferousness
Care for it, **** it, search into it
Gobble it up, make him cuss

Make him punch-drunk
Strung out on my mouth game
With wide love-struck eyes
He scans my highly tantalizing design
Motions to me that he is about to bust
As he covers my face with his rich man milk

— The End —