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Rudolph Musngi Jun 2014
Up and down, left and right, salt and pepper
black and white, twist and shout, pen and paper
North and south, pork and beans, chips and dip
*** and coke, q and u, paper and clip

Bacon and eggs, back and forth, biscuits and teas
Remote and TV, a pod with two peas
Yin and Yang, hand and glove, bread and butter,
hand and foot, mac and cheese, land and water

Abott and Costello, Tom and Jerry
Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny
Mutt and Jeff, Jack and Jill, Holmes and Watson
Jobs and Wozniak, Delilah and Samson

Tom and Huck, J and K, Tarzan and Jane
Frodo and Sam, Clark Kent and Lois Lane
Batman and Robin, Romeo and Juliet
Hansel and Gretel, Browning and Barret

There are many things that go together
But nothing will ever be as clever
Nothing will ever be as perfect, too
than my favorite pair called me and you.
http://rudolphmusngi.com/things-that-go-together/
Keone L Friesen Dec 2013
Oh young barret of the night. Who steals from the dreams of lost sain children like Moloch. The decrypted white house was nothing but A sanctuary for degenerates. the man… MAD… MAD was the man MAD, was the house, MAD were the claimers, MAD were the slaves to the slick but king of so called glam MAD was the man MAD MAD MAD.
           The barret was entering the house, leaving behind all. what has become of my young love asks me? he enters. MAD was he who entered the trap, MAD was he who allowed, MAD was who gave no warning of the moloch sacrifice being made to the two of his so called servants. MAD was all i say MAD MAD MAD, MAD was he who wanted to be hailed like Fernand, MAD was he who wanted to be king like Henry the 8th, MAD was he who wanted to use like Baron Neuvillette, MAD was he who wanted doll oh doll how can you do this.
          Oh ADONAL for if you do exist why have you allowed this, oh ADONAL for if you exist why have you for seen this, oh ADONAl for if you exist why have you told of my eternity. Oh ADONAL why? are you mad? for the people shall not say oh ADONAL well this blow over as fast as Holly or as fast of yourself.
        he who does as told, he who does what he thinks right for his so called gift. MAD for the betrayal of trust between the packed, MAD was he for the lack of word, Like a mute oh ADONAL like a mute he was! MAD was he who acted like Bromdens father, MAD .
      MAD MAD MAD MAD MAD is I for the envolvment of my cellar of time, MAD is I for what i have started and what have become of my creations, MAD is I for all, MAD is I for you, for she, for he, for *****, all mad, MAD is I for maybe i is mad.
                                                            ­                      written by Keone L Friesian. copyright to Keone Friesian
Apparently blessings soon wither
Where your star shone

Reminisce
In the darkening sky
There's a Taj Mahal!
Undulating endless
Asimetry of
Love

Floating above
The placid
Waters

One
Glimpse ~
My wet hands
Kyoto protocol
Hair in a Thankfury
Violet Versace

And your smiling coasts
Me wrapped in a black coat
Lush lucrative dynamics
Zarathustrian imperative!

Covering your manly
Shoulders

Dig a grave in my
Hollow submarine
Diminishing distance

Was I, to call your firm hand's
Grip ~a lesser degree in Hiking,
Or a postponed poetic height
Thumbs entwined. . .

Spirited as a killer
Eagles mudra
You stare at
My profile

Well ~we stand
Opposing as a lovers
Of A grand Poetic

Name surpassing the time
Awaiting, courting, questioning
Via simile to the blood under
The Bask's barret

No, the ring I've put aside,
My hands are bare tonight!

Bewildered, I´ll stumble forth
within a bright new day to
complete your sermon.

You usually brake the cliche
Walking hand in hand
With Affar Authors
With Dead Spirits
With Alive Authors
Playing dead, unknown
Within the journalists eyes..

When they whisper

Wisdoms to your son's father

When they sturm und drang my sweetest
Sister

The softest spring is coming forth and
I know where to find you. In southern sighs.
Dreamy. Uncatchable.

Playing
For one very special poetic lover of poesis.
Im a stranger to my oldest friends. they don't say that but I see it in them when they pretend to comprehend my failed attempt to act myself again. Social events are NOT my best. i go around and tell myself this isn't the end, You still have a grasp on what you use to represent.. but i can't think clear and even though i laugh my hearts always depressed. Not to mention every situations like ten times intense.. "ok you got THIS act normal " I sit there thinking about formal conversation i can start up. so i blurt out. Its irelevant and awkward.. i quite down. in my head Trying to figure out how i lost my interlectual side.. I'm weird, I'm broken, ive lost my mind. My own thoughts constantly poking my eyes ,, pushed to the side by visual lights and un natural highs. What have i done, All this beauty lost to a hit on the tounge. Acid casualty number what? I can't be the only one, i cry i cry why can't i see the sun?
     R.i.p Syd Barret
This year has been a tough one. I know syd would understand.
(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)

                                        Arrogant
­Book Soldier
Conceited
Con Artist
Covetous
Cunning
Deceitful
Disingenuou­s
Egoist
Egregious
Envious
Entitled
         ­                               Evil
Haughty
Hypocritica­l
Ignominious
Immoral
Jealous
Jumped Up
Machiavellian
Martinet
Mendacious
Nit Picky
                                        Obsessed
Peck Sniff
Perfidious
Persnickety
Pompous
Popinjay­
Predatory
****
Rapacious
Regimental
San­ctimonious
                                        Self Important
Shylock
Smarmy
Sophist
Supercilious­
Unctuous
Unethical
                                   ­     Vile
                                        Vicious
       ­                                 Zealot
       ljm
Obviously I have encountered someone who has wronged me egregiously and created the need for this tsumani of hatred to spew from my mind to this page and enable me to function as a caring, loving person again.
I also see the site won't let me list the words in a straight row.  Don't know why some are popped out of line when I hit the save button.  DANG!  Maybe the muse of poetry is trying to tell me something.
Tafuta Atarashī Mar 2016
How could I ever whisper sweet nothings?
No, my words are akin to Robert Brownings
Words to his dearest, the eloquent Elizabeth Barret.
I could never compliment you without depth and passion
put into my words that is barely suppressed within
me.
.
.
How could I not admire so completely?
No, my adoration, limited by physics, could never be truly
expressed thoroughly though I try. My soul cries to be free,
To join into one with your own.
How could I not long
For thee?
.
.
How could I without you be?
Perhaps 't was a  fah-tah mawr-gah-nah]
from nord; why your barret leaned out
of the dome's open window; moi mani
Tapping the Sir maine above whiskers.

Years ago I said to a bright boy: I'm
totally broken...and he laughed at
my phrasings; whilst his brother
skateddressed up in brits posh
uniform up hill, with frozen
knees, jaggy at downhill
Awaiting toasts, tea and
A headful of read of delightful SF
Sam Temple May 2014
melodic memories momentarily move me
gently swaying to inconceivable beats
imperceptibly
feeling the motion
insides swim
cool breeze moves conditioned hair
Sid Barret beckons me down untraveled hiways
grass littered
rabbits dash
washed out sun fades to white light
surrounded
Morrsion, drunk, leans over as if to whisper
but only soft ghostly lips breathe warm air
against disturbed skin
red and swollen—
silver flash across the sky opens a flood of possibilities
fixated, I stare into the blue
seeking connections
a sense of belonging
to be a part of
universal love
truth
understanding –
shadow slips quietly into the fold
expressing want and discontent
stringing doubt through prairies of hopeful exuberance
sobbing children who have forgotten the joys of fresh cut grass
hold their heads in their hands
partly to hide from the lies
perpetuated by the indoctrination machine—
a low hum begins to grow
rumbling
shaking foundations and creating pause
eyes dart, worried
was the elder Zappa right?
broken records skip
and a toe taps absentmindedly --
Syd was just a crazy spark
LSD flash of lightening
at midnight in Eden Park
got too high frightening
left his acid laced mark
on apples over ripening
Pink Floyd born in dark.
Jay earnest Aug 24
I heard the tune goes like
la laa laa nah da daa
the trombone fish breath make mint filth frolickers
And gnome nosed needled toes take the token
Too far
la daa nah dahh lee nah
Happenstance and zero hour
awake for a pedigree deciple
Green brown black
Heart attack
Laughing like a dog it's time for a snack
Don't look back
Laa dee dahhh ***** laa dee

The crumpled fist, and the removed go seeking their Messiah
I put dusk in your lungs
Youre dead to me
Dead like my future
***"""""""***
James Daniel Feb 16
Bio
One of my first jobs was as a waiter in a Thai Restaurant
Run by a scary Malaysian who'd taken a liking to me
We went to a rave once
And he gave me 400 AUD for Chinese New Year
Bless him

But one night a tall Singaporean guy called Sunny came in
He was a musician too
He played in a rock and roll band
The Suns

Sunny lasted one night
But he told me about an open mic run by a girl called Michelle
And we stayed in contact
----

Gom was in the year above me at school
Gom was the only African at our school, he and his brother
Goyte also went to our school, he was in Gom's year. At school I was smart and cool, played bass and was friends with everybody. School was sometimes an escape from home life.

Marcus took me to Gom's place once where he lived with his girlfriend Nikki
I took my guitar and Gom and I jammed in the bedroom
A singer and a rapper
----

The first time I ever played live was at a place called Yah man Rastaraunt
It was a Caribbean Restaurant on Hoddle Street, South Yarra, Melbourne
It had that black feeling, of warmth and mystery. Or maybe that was youth and ****.
But I played, and some of the girls were crying
I'd found my thing
I went back the next week and froze up
----

There was a place called Pure on Smith Street. This was where Sunny said the open mic was run by Michelle. In those years, Smith street had a sacred vibe. Maybe it was the presence of an Aboriginal community or the fact that gentrification hadn't yet taken hold. But things were elemental, exaggerated by the warmth of summer nights.
I loved these open mics, the people I've met. I'd invite my work crew and friends. Sometimes I'd pack that venue out, for 3 songs!
----

Gom and I started a band
Melbourne was hip-hop, music, life and Fitzroy was Mecca
On Monday nights you could go to a place called the Laundry and see B-boys doing backflips on dancefloors!
Open mics, Latin Culture, losing my virginity
I was living and working as a waiter in beautiful Carlton, Melbourne's Italy. I love the parks there.

I flew interstate to study jazz
To smoke more ****
Then less ****
To wander like the wind, to bend like the rain, but always circling music and its hubs

I moved to London in 2015
I worked in a cafe and met a guy called Stefan from Austria. He is still one of the coolest and nicest people you can meet. I'll have to link up with him in Berlin one day soon.
He introduced me to Stefano from Italy who played the drums
We set up a band and had a few gigs
We had Hakan on Trombone and Bahadir on bass
Stefano had all these connections to the Turkish musical community
Because of the fact he plays in the Oddbeats, a psychedelic Turkish Band, one of the long standing hippie bands round these parts

I worked in a cafe called Music and Beans on Green Lanes, London's Istanbul. It was run by a musician who played amazing violin and also ran a music school. I lived in a tiny room above the school for a bit. On Green lanes there was a place called Jam in a Jar where you could see all kinds of music, from Mediterranean to Irish folk. It had a festival feel to it.
----

I go to open mics and jams like I did back in Melbourne,
It's very jazzy and jammy in this city. I like going to blues jams sometimes.
But I do like to remember those first gigs and musical experiences I had back in Melbourne
The meditation and wonder of it

I see Lloyle Carner at the swimming pool sometimes
He comes in with his daughter and wife
There I work as a lifeguard
On the days when I'm not working, I'll be working on my music, playing guitar, piano, writing, listening, learning, humming, singing, reading...
Stefano and I set up a house removed from the noise of traffic, replaced by the sounds of birds. There are trees everywhere and a lake nearby.
I've dedicated myself to being able to sing that great song in great condition, so that keeps the number of joints, beers and cigarettes down and the number of kilometers run and minutes meditated up.


I would cite Stevie Wonder, Bob Marley, Aston “Familyman” Barret, Jimi Hendrix, Nina Simone, Miles Davis, The Red Hot Chilli Peppers, Flea, Michael Jackson, Marvin Gaye, James Jamerson, Donny Hathaway, Lauryn Hill, Sam Cooke, Bill Withers, Frank Sinatra, John Coltrane, Salman Rushdie, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Carole King, James Taylor, Norah Jones, Nick Drake, Bjork, Portishead, Radiohead, Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, Burial, Flying Lotus, Fat Freddy’s Drop, Aphrodite, Charlie Parker, Chopin, Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave, Paul Kelly, Jeff Buckley, Jaco Pastorius, Eric Dolphy, David Bowie, Charles Mingus, Herbie Hancock, J Dilla, Tupac, Juicy the song, Nirvana, Crowded House, Metallica, Black Sabbath, Prince, Parliament, D'Angelo's 3 Albums to date, Blackstar, The Roots, Adele, Beyonce, Aretha Franklin, Eryka Badu, Hiatus Kaiyote, Nai Palm, Muddy Waters, BB King, Ben Harper, Joe Cocker, Cat Stevens, Paul Simon, Van Morrison, The Rolling Stones, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, Janis Joplin, Joni Mitchell, Mavis Staples, The Beatles and tapestries more as inspirations and influences
Ryan O'Leary Jul 31
My current poetry count
Is an epic 5,437, when
One considers that I only
Began in 2000 A.D. after
I stopped drinking alcohol.

I have decided to dedicate
This first tranche to two
Other poets,Lord  Ganesha
From Maha-Bharat India
And Holly B Barret Ireland.

— The End —