Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Scott M Reamer Apr 2013
Man life know just set eyes way like young world soul day hunger space mouth earth thoughts ignorance blind things mind knew final moment human creation kind creatures souls high forgotten dream love spoke self existence face holy deep bound think home void say surrender ear forever called held ephemeral red state end shall heed hope edge living waking fall sea wake garden need February thought past wanderer got men page colored tepid terrible **** proudly untitled features point painted faceless box forgot render wild spring splendor  handfuls looking half brain lost torn ancestral  unseen vision inner summer honor mister owned banner save today fear groans wasn't smoke  street fable strange year contrast black years  able pain body spoken word known motion  palpitate reeling nature culture disclaimers  cancer beg attentive frames ****** base profound double remember wholly finger death token  cries continue folk oh fishing form broken true  divides spread ah twas away breathe wait warning hallowed wish closer lens turn eye live  constant current author hung theory dangle  bramble chemical new force changes adderall  anymore giving beneath possess pardon commentaries eternity internal walk reason  long change does idea glimpse consciousness  wandering simply wonder physical dreams war  sleep told rest benign prior begging truth little  2012 born tale crow bowels allegory animal rule  exasperate making horse curse hands ones read  rearrange capture doing command fail awake  aperture seedlings shift steely sir nap spead ****** demons slits clever telling loud spits la-la-di-dah killing slip game reflected nameless ask  lovers rabid bear salivate plunder shameless  famously savior mint rides menthol bully fate traded melodies play misunderstand mammals gentle witless fine utterly savage silt tongue-less  dirt dilutes pure non-sensory taste briefly ravage dismember it''ll shedding ruined curtain  knots offers plot fulfills munificent two-act  relegates boxz bug altruistic wintergreen tossing  callously guise grovels one's singers treachery ashes mid-life mutter fashion parading  ambiguity separatist liars staple steeping neath  guidelines scoffing stitch moans civil wrote  Fictitious undoing fables table effigies serve  sonnets staged remark psalm swoll praise harken  beggar verse bread lines heavily electricity detection snow sack-happy preaching credit  spotted wicked best gravity gun campaign owe  barge choir revelry celebratory satiated sinking  headline pack hound persistently propaganda  gentlemen excluding diminished ******* run idles  occupied levies wolfishly honestly misinformation cuba vehemently dumb grace spectator erasing  toned sage crowded secrets inter-connectivity  loaned prayer hymns grave mistaken magnified  vandals selective jump leak escapes says minister  buckle mass honesty shut tar children's hats  monument doping long-lived electrical ladle  exaggerated cartoons address seconds cool cradle bleak yang's mind-framed hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry persist scrap slipping individual talk wonders  leaving questions fold actor fancy parchment  fates engenders flown jaws stripped longer music  sacrifice fakers book boldly frown sigh atop patient hang trade occupation blows spectacular  whispers worthy backward waving certainty danced suppose needn't ‘drawkcab’ second-guessing  boys forget marched motto heads tightly lies two-tone earthbound harp twice turns goodnight  lying ***** internally indiscriminate nickname  drunk convictions myth steep  in-consumption  fitting artist **** universal sick expressions bad  du spell melody big siphon proud learn sprawls song spastic something temperaments utter check  fissures stomp totality blend definitely thrall sing rug voice shade pestilence ties commiserate round devil steady brains emotional certain gate  suckling gates dearth decay weight bounce pound  carrier pangs glass startle contest earthen web  tug pressed air patience flush amassed guest gone apprehension staring empathize captain believe fading in-perceivable deathbed guarder makes surrounds scatter drooling ebb blink cob tome  venom near door lair derision draws host stairs scent parts curiosities spider webbing surprise wares tips stepping ascetics starkness realize picture surroundings dictations grand pillars  deaf limited comparisons greet visual residents  personal settings dismiss alien law stability common earthly shiftless places prelude  understanding mosaic keen trifling embodiments  geared inception whisper visible jowls kiss murky  puddle rank dawn dichotomy single faithful fraying pays tailor veil climb mores pence whim  breath wellspring samara god stony pear  shadows fruiting forebodes moonlit looming  shown passed bog gold wracked faint tongues  noble preachers mirror shifting layered depth  threads jungle narcissus bemused seamstress self-worshiping architect's wore slumber anomalous  opened barren seam lip caustic scene coupled brick gardener's clenches -with forms idle breed  embodied lore starving empathy design illusion  tree coat fabricate lucid mason scatter-all  narrative seeking imbued 16th shivering chemicals 17th 15thrisk improperly dare  deliberate plan purge try brought chapter speed  aide utmost spirit leading intervention felt  recall recent advent sincerity times diary  lackluster piously lasting happy holding hear  stem tasteless whimpers wet spine monstrosity  dripping causes position quite softly claws pallet  answer digging tearing beast satiating circle breaks skips redwoods beckoning rotted hushed  gray lapsing monoliths deities creborus  imbuement hand stroll paradigm rendered chorus shy whispering forest residual tension  surrenders tolerance lull anew sentenced  bearing tide birds dirge divergent rim joined  cogs wood hesitant mist emergent towering offer  awareness confinement inverted faultier stowed  plane sanctified blanketing trusting memory fossil flash twists laden self-indulgent fleeting invitation agony grip shore impetus lingering  crows promise gift union swallowing endless floor supposed ecstasy sensory intent  psychotropic cradling placement interned  jagged connectivity exchange congenial begun  summons singular spiral assumes ambient reciprocates re-entry fruition reached aggregate lifetime limbs birthed instinct  frightening tarry proper entire light  boundaries innocence pursuit ago discover left  youth's unknowing sacred time place meager  simple fact cast ceaseless wide-eyed literal  apparent coincidence create boldness morphed  crooked kempt mere stumble buried shutter fairy  pivotal definitive months worth shear ambition sound required journeyed self-reflections title  facets vague restless intimation gut wanderer's  leap motivate path account boy soon bears faith  question tripped reasons uproot awaited confronted days step heal provocations wisps crushing transcend chronicles instance  directness raw drove occurrence objective-less  real enters slightest confident nondescript  typify  foreshortened interment paradox bitter heart  devoid jeopardy angry sensation confidential guilty arrogance mercy compliance reprieve  vincent deadening factual sign emotion awe  inhibition shackled butterflies absence actual sciences acknowledgement violent stagnant  spiritual American doors roots lack matted fore  gestures society cause streams intensity hair impossible discord lonely hearts resounding  jest  what's flavored pains closed toxic contented  happenstance scientific knowledge yeah  wizardry shaking stifled withdrawn bloom  jitter dreads settle asocial hulton make  predisposed figurative reflections demeanors  wondered affect hulton's projected sense  morning industry arrays ghosts feeling  certainly endomorphic where's partially wrath  passer mornings jovial unease advertized asking  trash onward wished tempers media mentality connect pasts sharp-toothed scramble great colours trial test salvation continually lent  degree secretly subjection social waned  disconnected colors grimly intellectual civilization cash trading baffling particular  digest myths monumental ending seasons winter  repetition introducing agent everlasting  shoulders delivered honestly-- possession funny  continence history unsightly function suffering propulsion profession divulge familiar tugs era  importance capability perpetuation spite inventory words entirety leveling fray insight  date record continues writer getting evermore fellow tongue possessions identical proof accuracy education similar sack admittance  favor unravel conveyance guilt gives beginnings  predicting audacity definition bobby heady eaters frameless learned release stone grandeur sang  speak molds sleeps split built seats people folded  sheer pour evoked playhouse liquid boring  tellers frayed stark walked reality pleas doth  preformed shows beak pride squawks opinions  greatest bold stunning sightings he'd loudly slain  sunk watch legend precipice theater deeper compound commentator civility justly silly sin  reverent seen prophetic moral confounds notion  lacking explain attempt prolific viral estrange proclivity scorn hide blur pious strung eden's  horror cut skin arch cruel twig mother vile  pass lend woods peach shrunken trail man's canopy worn 434 eat warm limb familiar father delete.

You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?
it is said that
a prophet finds no honor
in his own country

hard truths
boldly spoken
are received as a
wretched cacophony
threatening to melt
the caked wax
blocking the closed
intolerant ears of
intransigence

Madiba
once found no
personhood
in his homeland

his people driven
from their land
by Voortrekkers

snortling Boers
gobbling the land
uprooting native
people from villages
they had occupied
since the dawn
of time

spilling Zulu blood
into roiling rivers
of conquest

meeting peaceful
petitions of the
aggrieved with
Sharpsville bullets
splattering
the blood of
innocents onto
hardscrabble roads

redressing crimes
against the victims
by corralling them into
denuded Bantustans
where rivers do not
flow, grass never grows,
game cannot graze;
only the dust doth blow

riddling the captives
with torments of
Transvaal Apartheid,
mocking the speakers
of mother tongues with
the fained eloquence
of bastardized Afrikaans

the dominion of the
oppressors, sanctioned
and affirmed by exiling
a people from their land,
outlawing their language,
dividing the nations into
a fallacy of separate
destinies where a forgetful
history blessed with amnesia
will anoint the conquerors
with the spoils of abundance
stolen from the vanquished

Madiba spoke of these things
and was awarded a prison
cell for twenty seven years

but the hostages of
a conquerors justice
remained destined
to be freed by the arrival
of an accepted truth
set free by the very words
prophetically spoken

prisons cannot contain truth
steel bars cannot imprison
the idea of divine justice

it slips through the smallest openings
like a wafting fragrance of the first day of spring

it saws away at the rust strewn steel bars
like the surest movement of a master carpenter’s arm

it melts the thickest links of iron chains
in the fiery forges that burn in the hearts
of all freedom loving people

the truth of justice
is born and takes flight
on the wings of history
covering the globes
cardinal ordinates

nesting in the most
humble villages
and mean estates
on God’s good earth

truth and reconciliation
can never be separated
planted together to grow
healthy nations and
communities of
trust and restoration

Madiba, you always
found honor with
the salt of the earth
the children of light
who seek to dispel
the darkness of
acrimony and
*******

we continue to
walk your way
guided by your
prophetic visions
we take the first steps
asking liberators to join
with oppressors, pairing
in a magnanimous walk
along wholesome pathways
perceiving the buena vistas
of reconciled communities
firmly established
on foundations
of peace, equality
and justice for all citizens

I caught a fleeting glimpse of Madiba
as he rolled by in the Canyon of Heros
showered under a June blizzard of confetti
and a resounding acclimation of love.

I was a plebe inhabiting a lower floor
Broadway office, yet my station blessedly
brought me closer to Madiba.  As he passed
I was moved by his miraculous smile and felt
the colossal reverberations of his waving arm
triumphantly hailing the sweet freedom of
liberation all hostages of feigned justice
exude in the vindication of divine justice
enraptured in the joy of affirmed truth.

Dearest Madiba
we are enriched
and blessed for
the time you walked
among us.  

You fought
the good fight
my brother.

Rest easy
for we shall resume
the climb to
the next mountaintop.

Well done Madiba
Godspeed

Rolihlahla “Nelson” Mandela
7/18/18 - 12/5/13

Ladysmith Black Mombazo
How Long

Oakland
12/6/13
jbm
Cunning Linguist Dec 2013
Immerse yourself until wholly submerged
in my unholy divergence;
Poor form tormented soul - 
Roll your pain in a J
then dip it in chloroform
Embrace my urges to purge
the remnants of sanity,
Spilling and screaming
all these profanities at humanity

Confuddling all posers
with my bastardized prose ~
Please, continue badgering
and nagging me
with your ****-******* menagerie
of trivial drudgery
I’m in misery so
go ahead and bludgeon me
Square in the noggin’
So that I can jog it,
whilst juggling all these nails
from my coffin

I’m awfully harmful and cruel
got these scoffing jealous skeptics
Acting a fool,
coughing up a lung-full of fuel
for all of the putrid mind puke I spew
My mixing *** skull’s
where the ingredients accrue
Just stew with me for a little
while longer though won’t you

I’m a cancer-ridden addler
babbling mad adages,
ravishingly tenderizing my meat
Laced with some dust from space, yes, no lackage/absence of it lining
within my nasal passages see
spun off some of that absinthe
In a cloud of burning trees
Please tell me you feel me

It’s staggering how I’m both crazy batshit,
**** smooth as rotten laxative cheese
Brain’s melting acidic beef
I’m like Randy Savage I got
Bombastic fat ******* in heat
Straight making my **** go flaccid post-weep

Don’t get offended women
just imagine
How painfully average the package
is within my lap that I’m packin
But now it’s wrapped
and I’m ready to fucken
fully send it no cap
My turnaround is lightning fast
In and out of your *** quick as a wink like The Flash

Faces contort in ghastly panic, actually
Dastardly antics unleashed in vast swarms
Plague the masses in pandemic proportions with them massive casualties factually once more
Give ya some relaxing action 
And skull-**** y’all
with such a passion *******
Your corpse falls to the floor
and right through the trapdoor

Candid, my pen-chance enchants
Heavy-handedly inanimate
in suspended animation
Supplant reality augmentation
Machinations of my imagination;
Implicating **** ransacking  
and seafaring through crab infestations 
Wreaking havoc and bequeathing vengeance
I’m a fire breathing grim reaper reeking of ****** ~

- Off is the nearest direction in which to ****
Dissect my ******* with your tongue
Turnt up ******* plumpies in the rumpus 
Just for the fun of it until I erupt
Remember, I’m avid for dismembering appendages
I expect you’re exceptional at accepting
a barrage of septic bombardment
Chance of success: logistics analysis zero percentage
(Cos I done ******* on all those *******.)

Superbly superlative and speculative
So fast on Adderall
I make Mad Hatter’s head spin
Quicker than you can snap: 
Giving your family heart attacks
Smack you in the face, 
While fapping my fabulous lap rocket

Thunderously plundering under covers
Spring-loaded with faux pas’ so hot
Make your mother’s ***** pop out
and say “hello”
like a Jack-in-the-Box

& U kno Those foxy grandmas
be jaxing off my **** -
Bingo wings beckoning me to flock
Choppin’ up rocks round the clock
with the glock in my pocket til I rot 
Undoubtedly
Caught em wit the molly-whop eyeballs pop out they sockets all dramatically
Whole squad **** swap the rod, on God
Blow my whole *** when I start spitting them double entendre fatality snowballs
Zippity-zop like Cosby’s special BBQ sauce
Bet I’ll dip my puddin’ pop and stay fresh with the drip til I drop
Y’all just holler when you want me to stop

Palpable, these **** butts malleable as putty
Barbarically barrel rolling into dat ***
rip it to shreds like confetti
Power Pole extend
Face pressed into your *******
Inhaling the wafting aromatic stenches
of distant French fish factories

Clearly getting dome from your dearly betrothed violently
Now she bridal and my seeds spiraling virally
Vital signs finalizing
Bounce that *** like jello
Swell; I’m in your hair like gel
Now swallow my jollies and don’t bother
Unless you hollerin’ and giving me dollars
Zealots idol my harlotry

If nose goes go slow grow low
Throwing those yoloing hoes out windows
This ***** simply bonkers
I conquer fear me

***** DON’T HARSH MY MELLOW
SWEAR I’LL MARSH YOUR MALLOWS
kenye Sep 2014
I work for the machine
that bashes bastardized beauty
into the face of the masses

The status quo
of oppressing the Goddess
to some golden ratio
of ***** perfection

"We set the standards, baby"

An arrogance of man,
A battle born in blood
objectifying some sacred symbol,
The cosmic ****
we all crawled out of
as star dust

The holy hole
to heaven on Earth
Gaia taken advantage of
Rejecting the gift of consciousness

We'll de-evolve
like past-life regressions
like we're so self-entitled to 
come back around
Among the cosmos
cradled in the crescent 

Deny yourself the mystique of the feminine
The clashing of the anima and animus
The syzergy of 
the sun 
the moon 
and us
Call on your angels
And submit to the psychosis

My brothers,
These are our 
sisters and mothers
They don't want to castrate
The ******* symbol

Destroy the alpha male
And the omega oppression
The beginning and the end of
**** shaming 

I worked for the 
misogyny machinery of Moloch
My heart no longer beats here
It just bleeds for *her.
This is my declaration.
Madison Oct 2018
Not too tall --

Don't want him towering over me

Looking down on me

Humiliating me

In more ways than one.


Eyes should be dark --

Not pale.

Don't want them

Cold, empty, icy

Don't need

A shark-like gaze

To chill me to the bone.


Not too large --

Don't need him to tell me

Just how big and strong and intimidating he is

Can't have him saying

Outright or otherwise

That he could hold me

Or anyone else down.

What else are arms for?


Not too crude --

In fact, I just might want him to talk

Like a woman.

Don't get me wrong --

My vocabulary is colorful enough.

It would be hypocritical to rule out profanity.

But, as soon as you call me or her or him or this or that

'*****'

The bile will surely be climbing my throat.


Not too proud --

Yes, confidence is attractive

But conceit is certainly no match.

I don't care if he thinks he looks good --

I will most likely agree that he does --

But one who can not admit to his mistakes

Let alone answer for them

Is a frightening caricature of humanity.

I am so flawed, love

But my flaws are not the cause of yours.


Not too dense --

Anyone who reads this

Male, female, or other

And calls me a 'man hater'

Or asks what I would think of a man

If he wrote something like this about a woman

Should run along

For that is not what I'm saying

Not at all.


I know what I deserve

And it's just what everyone else should get.

I just believe

That 'do unto others'

Should not die

Once the ring is on the finger

Or the name is on the dotted line.

I just believe

That 'love' should not be bastardized

To mean an unconditional, everlasting loop of

'Whatever you want

Honey.'

Only give what you'd want to get

Only take what you know you need

No matter the giver.

Bestow and accept nothing less

And as much more

As you can manage.


Believe me

I'll keep doing the same

No matter what you say.
Jared Eli Oct 2013
They said that I could be whatever my heart desired
But I don't know what I want; All I know is that I'm tired
The world's too big for someone like me
The world's too small to fit people comfortably
The cities are jam-packed and all of the bodies
Are writhing and bending like awkward pilates
But the abs don't develop, the friendship's avoided
The only way to the top is to blood dope and 'roid it
There's no one that smiles as I climb on the train
And true, my own smile I made plans to retain
But maybe that's it! We've got a vicious rotation
Of these serious faces, a shy person's vocation
"Put up the wall!" cries the brain in a fright
The same little voice that grabs the wall switch at night
So let's bring them all out of the hand-painted shell
That covers them up and locks them in so well
But back to the start, I don't know what I'll be
And it's so hard to think with these people around me
They crowd up the alleys, the houses, the street
And it's funny, two strangers with same routes don't meet
We wrap ourselves up with the survival of the day
And we become more robotic as our humanity slips away
We entertain the thought that we're cognitively higher
And we've been doing that since Prometheus stole the fire
We've got all our gadgets ideas and tools
And we set codes of standards and morality rules
Sure maybe we're self-governing and make our own laws
But how does this make us above those with paws?
Are we wholly smarter by gift of this tech?
Because it seems to me that the world is a wreck
We took over the planet with ignorant spreading
Closer and closer the moment we've been dreading
Is nearing the Earth through the vast population
We're nearing the point where we'll need a space station
To hold all the people, too eager to quit it
To keep it in your pants, think before you hit it

To keep our races intact, to ensure man's survival
We're our very best customer and salesman and rival
"Help yourself and I'll be right along"
Is the tired old phrase, the motivation song
And some things you can change and fix with a thought
But the number of things that need more? Quite a lot
You can't save a nation just by a mental notion
There's no telepathic messenger who will fly across the ocean
On the wings and dreams of the oldest dragon
Whilst carrying the remedy in a silver flagon
There's no Wish Police who will answer your calls
And pull down their Fix-it Guns from the racks in the halls
So to move a nation, you might think it funny
But the thing that speaks to all is valid currency: money
To make all the changes you wished up in there
You've got to pull out the cash and flip back your hair
Make a statement that sure, you've no clue what you're doing
But you're willing to try, and while politicians sit stewing
Over who voted how and which bill not to pass
"The elephant says yea; Let's legalize grass!"
None of that matters if you get full support
And when you work for the world, who takes you to court?
So I guess the whole point, the big picture theme
Is that changing the world will take more than a meme
It involves more than **** and ******* and wines
It's more than those selfies and twerking and vines
It's more than that petty stuff you find so amusing
The internet was information, but you all are abusing
You muddle up facts with your silly fan fiction
U and I are ovr because you've bastardized the diction
The syntax is wrong, there are so many errors
These are but one of the grammatical terrors
That plague the nation, plague the world
The torch is passed and the baton twirled
The next generation knows no better
Than to follow our actions to the letter
What can they change when we've taken it all
And compacted it down to six summer weeks small
The information they're using is paraphrased
And the original sources have been erased
To make more room in the data banks
For storing the info on nukes and rebel tanks
Let's all converse and stop these risk stunts
Grab the bat from the player; "Take a risk, not a bunt!"
Change to the world has got to be swift and loud
Stop mumbling ideas when you can shout at the clouds
Let loose the brain you've kept locked away
And shout at the world; let them hear you today
What will I be? Well, I've got to make dough
To make waves in the world and change it, you know
I'll do what I can, within moral reason
To gain leverage on everything and it might become treason
To fix the whole world using ideas and cash
But I'd much rather my back feel the sting of the lash
Than condemn my mind to the essential lobotomy
My only medical surrender will be to phlebotomy
So take out my blood and my money too
If the world's gonna change, I've got to learn to trust you
That will be our base, our motto and creed
To strive for the change fueled by trust, not by greed
Fa Be O Jan 2013
I was born in a cold land,

The leaves bright orange like the sun

And a dusting of icy dew on wilted grass;

I was born in sanitary white and surgical blues,

Incubated, saved, isolated;

Mamá cried:

In the motherland,

mi Apá would’ve had to choose.

I was born into exile.

I was born to immigrants,

Brown like the dirt

Mis abuelos grow caña in,

Like the leaves, glorious colors past;

I was born foreign.

I was born in Español,

Accented with indigenous words,

Bastardized like our foods and dance;

I was born and placed

At the care of a deer’s eye,

Tied red around my wrist,

A wooden cross,

A brown ******,

A blue-eyed Niño Dios.

I lived in dust for 2 years.

I ran free, in fields of milpa,

In fields of caña,

In zocalos with

Colorful waving paper flags

And statues of generals.

I played with cousins,

Sharing bolis and nieve,

The hot clay burning our feet,

Racing to cool down at the spring.

And then I was brought back for school:

Los gringos van a estudiar,

They whispered, a bit mocking, about me,

4 years old, a girl,

In a place where girls were good for marriage,

University for the rich, ****** folks

Of faraway cities.

I came back to the cold land in spring.

A small barrio of tall broken down buildings,

Tiny apartments that became havens

At the sound of guns at night.

There was no more running around freely,

No more campos, no more town squares.

School was foreign,

There was English to learn,

A struggle to lose the accent,

To make the thick words

Comfortable in my tongue.
1/2/13
K Middleton Oct 2012
Them bastardized youths fell outside, dizzied by a reality unsolved.

Their maws scowled judgment and drooled Pabst down improbable bodies each of them lay in the stink of subtle conformity.  

Fiercely unique culture beasts starved away in suburbs; Wikidrifting, those drugged litterbugs scampered.

Dropout fish fast against the current of their time, tired from dancing through desperate crowded nights and disparate lonely dawns, dangling degrees and the specters of success burning incessant their pride.

They were the *******, made so over time contracted by blind parents to nine-to-blithes in which quiet desperation, credit nooses, and irony were the small print.

They were carpenters afraid of their hands.  With chisel to headstone, they lied on the hoods of used Japanese cars, panning the radio for a real connection and gazing up at vanishing constellations.  

They were their poison and they their elixir, but a cold cigarette was a much quicker fixer of Helplessness Blues and the back of a Bible where a brief intellectual wrote “I am suicidal.”

For how does the turn of the epigram read to those who care less with every new beat of a drummed-up society so high off its piety that seeing stars vanish is simply a shame?  

Those *******, dropouts tragically remiss, those Supertramps, Kerouacs, Cohens, and wits.

They were the alternative, urbanite fools that littered alleys with Greek fables and Tibetan tattoos.  

Criterion flash cards and the literary canon allowed them to flirt with god in verse and art clues until *******’s canvas did rip off their eyelids which left them to know only Socrates knew.

They danced and they writhed, then ****** to pass time, and kept on their passions till lost were their minds.  Then they all died, those blasphemous *******.

But at least they washed on the back of their crimes.

At least they danced.

At least they were.

And there may be something to movement in chaos.
Ned Carter Dec 2013
The children adore it
and wait all year
for the cold winter comfort
and the saturating cheer

They fidget and pace
all through December
making lists of the gifts
That they did not remember.

They climb upon Santa
eyes shining brightly
fingers clutching their lists
ever so tightly.

They stutter and stammer
forget what to say
resigned to waiting
for that magical day.

Xmas eve evening
so full of excitement
they dream of the morning
wondrous delightment.

The parents abhor it
and wait with dread
the upcoming gathering
the breaking of bread.

The family you avoid
the rest of the year
the drinking, the gossip
the pains in your rear.

The endless instruction
batteries galore
the wrapping and hiding
the locked closet door.

The last minute shopping
Black Friday stampede
to grant their wishes
to satiate their need.

Its finally over
the end is nigh
the morning of Christmas
the end of the lie.

The atheist ignores it
as best he can
it is pretty invasive
and he is only a man.

A fat man, a baby
flying moose in the skies
horrible, endless music
but at least there are pies.

It begins in October
the feast for the dead
the next day there's Jesus
in his tiny, wooden bed

A story of divinity
passed through the ages
bastardized and broken
parchment thin pages

Roman gift giving
European "Christmas" trees
A Greek gift giving saint
Shepherds on their knees

Supernova signals
Norseman's Mistletoe
A donkey, a sleigh
Coca Cola's ** ** **!

Saturnarian or Pagan
Christian or Jew
Happy Holidays to everyone
From: Atheist, To: You
Brandon Apr 2011
Catastrophic
Catatonic
Claustrophobic
Annihilation
One time salvation
Breakout of the contaminated
Destination of taxation without representation
Conspirator to predetermination
Bastardized paradox within a mind flux
Mentality of antagonizing accusations
A nine-cent flag now costing nine dollars
Fronting of the war effort while at home on a family vacation
Bryce Feb 2019
At the ending of the world
there is a great unraveling
that celestial bow, wound into heartsong
and maestrate the caring music of things--
with these passions of the mind,
God seeking to unravel himself in the ever-fleeing
moment of philosophy, a Persephonic instance
in the archetype of love, psychotic and misnamed,
strait-jacketed in sin and given nothing but sweet
momentary decay

all the powerful souls connect sexually with the cosmos--
payed off, bastardized with a cigarette between their whispered lips
we hold no wealth but the ever-shifting dollar of life.

Fat Jack, fondly Catholic with angel smiles-- holds a rock of God in his hand, rocking softly
in god's busted gut-belly
spread like butter amongst the stars, asking all the same questions of Nirvana--
The last rumble of a skin-tight drumskin wrapped within a screaming symphonic twang of remnant souls--
Walking the notochord of corporeal form
the fantastic drone of rotorcraft, taunting the angelic lads and their brigadier God, singing psalms of limerence
Charlie Parker, musical sadness
Jack-man gladness
Don't forget them in the moment of monastic incantations

High-risen pyramidicals
Euclidian pitter-patter against the gusts and rains
in familiar, repetitive shapes the droplets of ichor
elucidate the frowns of downtown humanity
the locked door at the edge of the room, the air evacuated in fear,
seeking safety in the favorite belfry of an ancient wailing abbey
the dusty oil-towns of century ago
Imbibes the modern-day Maricopa plain
folk digging for dino-rock and black gold, selling dreams to downtrodden lost boys
the mistakes of RV park families

Farmland road
in Louisiana brew
the atmosphere, keeping personal thoughts trapped
a high-pressure zone
the ever-wandering
churning winds of eventual hurricane
the sequence that tickles Fibonacci's fancies and
calls us to dream--
a great Babel of God's consistent scattering heart.

in this great combustible chamber, loud obnoxious gaseous veils
in a low sigh our precipitate souls
smog on the failed shackles of stale blood
dripping this oil on the lips
holding friendly smiles
hiding sickening grins
callous, angry, the honey-chalice sought be not by man or God
alike;

Charlie Parker, playing the world's instrumentation
a track to follow
faded as the ancient road roaming
Rome's wet snail trail
blinking and shimmering into existence
a dewlit morning
the conglomerate rock is a cradle for human discomfort
admitted and hidden
to be a better hold than the hands of the earth
in these cornmeal roads,
digging out sugars from her *****
and sipping on the liquor of life in classic fermentation

to hold the road in your hands, the world on your lips
to tell the catacombs of love you would be her hostess,
seeking answers in the bones of ancient souls and refining
in deep sighs,
loving the things we cannot be.
Frieda P Sep 2013
Perdition falls from your lips in pretty posies
sanguinary lies woven within an embellished fairy tale
they drank the kool aid of your bastardized  aspersions
it's evil spell cast, hypnotizing the living dead
devil with archangel wings doth pose in velvet idioms
spewing respite in dark undertones of ego's rejection
perusing any that would annihilate acrid truths
peer in the mirror to see the lying heathen lecher
****** venom dripping from your deceptive sword
in bitterness of jagged tongue's kissass contempt

hell hath no fury as a soulless man scorned*

How did you get to be so unkind?
Frieda P Oct 2013
Perdition falls from your lips in pretty posies
sanguinary lies woven within embellished fairy tale
they drank the kool aid of your bastardized  aspersions
it's evil spell cast, hypnotizing the living dead
devil with archangel wings doth pose in velvet idioms
spewing respite in dark undertones of ego's rejection
perusing any that would annihilate acrid truths
peer in the mirror to see the lying heathen lecher
****** venom dripping from your deceptive sword
in bitterness of jagged tongue's kissass contempt
'don't talk about it, talk about the weather'~
hell hath no fury as the man unveiled to the masses
history repeats itself and no one seems the wiser....**



How did you get to be so unkind?
I think everyone has been taunted by a bully in their lifetime, the real shame of it is when people stand idly by and don't do a thing in defense of justice and honor....just a rant.
She was dark, drowning in her thoughts
Couldn't find her way to what she lost
She was damaged, scarred from heart to soul
Too bruised to remember what made her whole
She was in pain, constantly fighting back tears
But never brave enough to fight her fears

He was young and stupid--a ******* at heart;
a self-loathing so strong it tore him asunder
The things he needed always fell apart;
the things he wanted, denied, leaving his heart to hunger

She was a dreamer until life gave up on her
Too many demons to battle but she wasn't a fighter
She made wishes on falling stars and smoldering skies
But she was cursed, the heavens told her lies
She was dead inside, yet living within the crowd
Her screams for help were never heard, but still so loud

He was **** outta luck: the world fresh outta *****
Heart and soul burning--the proverbial candle ,
and it's it only a matter of time before Xanax
fails to give him a reason to even get up
It's hard, it's Hell--it's too much to handle,
but he's too paranoid to even panic

She's too scared to think of how few people care
Never opens her heart, she wouldn't dare
Confiding in the voices only she can hear
Believing the ***** no one gives, outta fear
She's dangerous, made too many mistakes
It's all her fault she knows nothing but heartache

He's alone, he's paranoid; a self-fulfilling prophecy
teetering on the edge of extinction
A dying breed bastardized by blood and water alike
How can he be saved when acceptance Id heresy?
They all think he's just pining for the next reason
to say, "No more beginnings," and end his life

She's lost her will, her strength to survive
Nothing's figured out, no reason to be alive
Balancing her life on the edge of a blade
She gets cut, no matter which side she takes
Holding tightly to the sharp point of reality
She's lost focus, just walking through life blindly

He's a sympathetic tool playing by apathetic rules;
it's only a matter of time before he knuckles down
No more bitter Mondays--out comes the Saturday Night Special
He's living on borrowed time; it's time to pay the dues
When you tread a fine line, you slowly come unwound
come the realization both sides of the tightrope take you straight to Hell
My bastardized Latin name approximating "[One who] reflects inner wisdom."
I love playing with etymology.

Cogitationis roughly translates to "thinking/meditation/reflection"
Sapien sort-of means "wise/wisdom/sentient" (like **** Sapiens)
Intrum is something like "inner/inside/within"

and the letter u was once writ as the letter v in the Latin world, so I replaced the us with vs and trifled with likely absolutely incorrect suffixes to make it more fun to say.

Hence: **Cogitatio Sapientvs Intrvm
Figured I'd justify my name change this time.
Joshua Dougan Feb 2017
I gave someone an inch, they dragged me for miles.
Called me "*******"; some laughed but no one smiled.
Now I'm suffering like this, this bastardized trial.
Lovers that hit while they kiss its the standard I've reviled
I'm tired. I admit I'm soured to the pit.
But this fire that's within is like the flowers to the kids.
Disclaimer: This is not inspired by my life. This poem just evolved from the first two lines. I love my wife, I love my kids, so this more or less is about the moment when someone opens themselves up to abusive people.
Scott M Reamer Mar 2013
Things we used to be
Or rather that which we are still
We as in I
I as in you
You as in me

Just a pair of eyes
Disembodied, disinherited
Then a word or two
Spoken uncertainly, with imperfect diction
Next came a body coated matte
Appearance totally flat
A reprisal of the reeling mind
Discontented, self remarked
Struck like fells of flak shells
Wrack

Emotive motion to inhale pain pill smoke
Foiled
Spoiled through imparts of ignorance
Palette saturated, severance pre-packed
Wheeze ever
A bio beat box, palpitate off tempo
Disharmony collate
Chaos culture, we the cancer self-castrating earth
Bastardized with sickly sounding mirth
Loudest, proudest, irreverent
Disclaimers
Naked
Reclamation
The origin known as nature
Growing up in the
White man’s grave,
Experiencing the days
Of infinite mental disquiet,
Glancing up at the
Towering walls of life,
And considering my
Unacceptable wretched
Condition is all I can remember,
For I rejected the feeling
Of rolling in my own cobweb,
Calling it merely a
Trick of my imagination,
Indeed, the child resembles
The father but belongs
To the mother’s clan,
And the waves and tides
Are nothing but noxious
Dynamic icing strength,
Ah! A mighty tree has falling,
Flinging down coil after
Coil with hasty energy,
Someone should please
Ask nature to make
Restitution for this damage
Done to my restless hope,
For the resplendent and
Bastardized peace in me
Has been torn into
Squalid tatters by howls
Of rage and shrieks of lament,
May be, nature can establish
My virginity in the blood-stained
Sheet on my wedding night,
Hmm, my queer life,
The white fowl spotted
By the roving evil hawk,
Indeed, the mangrove tree
Dwells in the Pra river,
But that does not make it a crocodile.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com
Ryan Clark Apr 2015
Sumer, Winter
shine, or rain,
Doesn't matter
its all the same.
Miles are miles.
They have nothing to say.
Littered with sweat;
Haunted by pain

Our backs are broken
Knees begin to give out
Blister upon blister;
yet none fall out
We are to tired to gripe,
so onward we  roam
into the night.

For all of our troubles;
all of our plight
Its just another day
that burdens no ones mind.
Thankless tasks
that consume our lives
If only we knew
When we signed those lines.

Birthdays,
Christmas,
Turkey dinner,
Weddings,
and funerals
replaced by miles,
burnt out bodies,
and restless hearts

For What?

We stare at other soldiers
and wonder why,
we alone
are bastardized.
After all,
does god not love the Infantry?  
Nay...
****** fools are we

It will never change.
It is
as it always will be.
A few good men
herded
straight to the butcher.
Paraded
like cattle.

Its funny though.
Given a second chance
I'd still wear my blue chord
Standing again an Infantryman.
For all of the ****,
For all of the take
I'd rather be a broken *******
than a *****.
I had some time today and came up with this. Please dont be offended by the last line, its a very common Infantry mentality that I wished to  emphasize. If you don't under stand try not to give it much though and pass this poem up.
Bastardized holdings in a new world order
Standardized error retained as a border
Manipulate the idealist into a moral hoarder
Tabulate the results, and encourage disorder
Urmila Sep 2014
They guided her,
They were friends since she made their acquaintance,
She didn't know all of them,
But the ones she did, she knew them well,
And guarded them fiercely,
For in the times they lived in,
They were abused, brutally abused,
Stripped off their meaning, bastardized
And she couldn't stand it
To her, they represented so much more than a space filling sound,
And using them inappropriately, would just not do
They were her comrades,
Her support system,
They answered questions,
- She couldn't ask,
They questioned ideas,
- She thought unquestionable,
They fooled her some times,
But never by their intention,
She played with them,
Weaved one of a kind garments out of them,
And gifted them to the ones she really loved, like a specially knit sweater,
They kept her warm,
They kept her content,
They kept her hungry,
~ Words
Only words,
Are all that she had...
To do so much more,
Than take your heart away
Some times we say as an expression, "words failed me", but more often than not, we're the ones failing words. Use them wisely.
the tarnished amour of the we little she, he and yes, the you in me.

Pix elated images vibratory frequency of the flicker rate,
the resolution in its #x# scale and aspect ratio,

silly how we utter this vibe from the heart, vocal in rounded grounded sounded,
these words, we symbolize, individualize, characterize, initialize, authorize,
these thoughts and concepts of need and purpose, of intent, of desired effect/affect, for reason and yes even a ******* resolution.

Yet is the resolutions we seek through intended deeds and understandings of these choppy rounded uttered babbled bastardized thought into the realm of physical and manifest from the electric thoughts of our seeming lone and lonely worlds of the pitch black of the inner parts of the skull and brain so gelatinous and electro- chemically factory of the mind through the spine and the Ark of the Covenant through the helix of a Jacobs Lattered spiral stair way to heaven , is it really ******* that we have in mind of resolution? or is it te failings of this duality we have created in the love of the out pouring of our creator into this silly illusion of vibrations reflection as our truth Experiences its creations through the very minds eye of our torn , broken and forgiving hearts a blaze?

I say, need not worry of a long sentence where the heart speaks without punctuation, anticipation, nor retaliation for rendered intent, for we utilize what is of truth and all things are of God and only in existence by the living will of Love which is your conscious creator and father, tree from which our seeds of lineage do come and a family tree that deeds us all kingdoms and lands where our hearts rule endlessly and in the glory of free thought and will al in the love of learning  and remembering we never have left the garden and the heart of our creator, see the remote of this reality is the illusion, we are only all and all only the one in the dim witted yet learning love of the consciousness of the one source, our facts an truths self evident on that day soon to come for us all, wt en we snap our heads to the right in a sudden **** to realize  ***, it is truly that simple? it was all that simple? oh my, yes, just as kindergarten, where we learned, Nothing is that difficult, the only thing difficult is the us in interaction with all of existence and the flow of what is already and always has been and never was, the never never of the always has been son. the You in me, the me in you and the we in this most truly intelligent, patient, kind and everlasting life of labored and growing love of the one true creator the all , the great spirit, the Lord, the soul one, so true, the all in all and the us all in you as you witness the beauty of you in the heart of the ever growing and thriving source of all, **** friend I love you too, and you love my *** too, and together we are both silly children and foolish in ever forgetting to believe less of the truth of miracles and the in a blink of an eye reality of the garden of dreams we stand, you there, me here, and nothing but love in the in between.

Not forgoing the risk that you just might fear the reality that you are a big softy and only dislike the hearts and unicorns shooting rainbows from their arses because you find little love in what man has created, well, son, brother, sister, sit down and lets talk for a second, consider this,
all things are created by God and thus made out of pure sound of the love pouring from the trunk of this tree of life, and if you i intend to harm another ******* in the world with one of Gods Creational vibrations with your creations of will and thought , then remember that God superseded your silly ***, by allowing that hate filled intent of harm  is made from love and the intent can be stripped from the truth of weight, pain, burden, causation for another to doubt themselves ( lets be honest, this is the flat truth, you can not cause true harm without the other allowing themselves to believe the creations purpose.) and in that be harmed by a creation from you using the love of God , for you can not create **** nor anything exist outside of the love and sound of Gods being and truth, so, yeah, next time you are hurt by another's actions and deed, remember, you are a creator in this love of God too, and you can strip the intent from all things man and take it to the original truth, Gods love for you as you learn and grow in this bizarre place of day dreams we have fancied ourselves helpless too, **** we can be silly and foolish but, we will never be undone nor destroyed in the image of the face of God for we are all made of the sound of Gods love for all existence.

and thus , if you don't agree, then, thanks for playing , lol, listening that is, and realize you are free to believe what ever, and i too am in this fact self evident, and in this one rule is the only consistent, harm none, least you be harmed. for out of the eater comes meat and from the strong comes a soft hand.
and in that, my friends, is where i stand.

and that is why all the tarnish and stains and marred marks of battles won and lost, will lift and flutter away as cherry blossoms in the wind on a summers windy day. and shine, you will, and counted we do make, for we are here to learn and grade one anothers efforts to stay in line with the core rules, and never, even, are we out of the you in me and the me in you. wink, smile and by the way, thank you for the small things , for they are truly the biggest of things in the cy re of self evident and good.

Badger Crow Moon/ Ricci Dale Moon Scott Oct/12/2015 12:04 PM
Moon Walk ✗☽彡☾✗☰ Trigram Heaven , may we all have equal chance to prove we can harm no one and create true and in love and growth of the Tree of life of Gods loving heart song of us all.
DMX Prayer 1 - 5
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0V2fh8cpb8w

DMX Lord give me a sign lyrics
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DE9mc0XcFAs

DMX 2010 THE PRAYER
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C1SjVKv86V8

DMX - Lord We Thank you
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=95z7FQdr8wk
Moon Walk ✗☽彡☾✗☰ Trigram Heaven , may we all have equal chance to prove we can harm no one and create true and in love and growth of the Tree of life of Gods loving heart song of us all.

couldn't help it, lol
h ttp://hdwallpapers.cat/wallpaper/samurai_cowboy_cherry_tree_sword_lonely_sun_hd-wallpaper-953548.jpg

and
h ttp://img0.reactor.cc/pics/post/full/Metal-Music%26Atmosphere-ROTTENGRAFFTY-coldrain-1698003.jpeg

And yes, I see the love, and please know , if i miss something, it is not for lack of truly wanting to enjoy, no, we find a rescue in them in fact, nor is it out of not finding tears in the joy of allowing the understanding that I too can be loved for simply being  what is simply foolish and silly  me, and that your thoughts and prayers, are a Miracle and a God Send through ways and means that cause my heart to ache in love, ache in true missing of you, thank you all.
Ben Nov 2011
writing down on paper
thoughts i can't say aloud
can't think aloud i don't
have control over my mind
my pencil, i don't know what
words are going to come out
a labyrinth, a maze through
the darkness of my mind
what emotions am i
feeling i don't know
anger sad hate love
anxiety lost empty
hopeful depressed bastardized
so so lost confused and
urge to write and urge to
feel, i want to get it
out, a thorn, 12 inches in
my heart, how is it beating
how am i going how do 
i live like this, transitions
change, people spiraling out
of control and i don't know
what to do, helpless
this is just the beginning
and my hand can't write
fast enough...
Allison Rose Sep 2012
i worship you silently because
i know you do not speak and
i do not wish to mock you with
the feeble talents of the gilded
molding soapbox on which we
rationalize our superiority.
                 instead i am content
to lie in your sunbeams and
communicate through the rise and
fall of my natural breath, the only
thing my wretched racing mind
has not stolen from my unbridled youth.

there are thoughts inside me --
just beyond the ellipses -- that evade
the nets of language, slipping daftly
through the fine mesh of symbols
we have compressed into what we call
understanding.
                  i am as capable of catching
these thoughts as i am the dust
that dances in a beam of light.
and i know you hear them
as though it is a song that plays into
your ear, yet i know that no instrument
of earth may capture such a melody.
impossibly far from embodiment,
i know these feelings are safe
from the steam-roller plastering of
my most enchanted moments
into a bastardized form, tainted
by the intellectual spirit that evades
even the smallest pore of this human body.
i am with reason in a constant chase
that keeps me fleeing ever faster
towards my long-lost home among the hills...
She lays out her heart
On her sleeve  
Both sleeves
As the red
Carpet is rolled
Out for royalty
Whether for
Honor or dishonor
But always
For ceremony

It beats in polyrhythms
Under and on her
Many layered epidermis
Whose layers
Perhaps only a mystical
Archeologist could
Analyze
The complexity of an
Ancient undecipherable book
              
Created by years of damaging
Neural and spiritual
Pathways by absorbing
The essence of her
Personal peace pipe
Which is bereft of the
Essential factors found
In thousands of years of
Dream religion

She fancies herself
A new breed of
Shaman perhaps
A connection broken
At an unknown time
In her spirit
But felt strongly
And deeply as
Phantom pain
Evident in her
Crystal ball
And stargazing

A remnant of
A long lost tribe
A tapestry of
Religions
Trivialized
Pop cultural  
Spirituality
And superstition

Her motives
Misplaced and obscure
But definitely from
A healing source
But the channels are
Eroded and indefinable
Bastardized by

Extraneous channels
And alien sources
A trickle of water
In a dry river bed
All muddled into
This enigma and

Multicolored tapestry
Which is often
Misunderstood
And underestimated
Protected by the
Thick epidermis
And hard to follow
Cardiac polyrhythms
Revealed when her
Many layered tongue
Lashes out and cuts deep

Not intending to control
And manipulate
With leadership
Origins perhaps in the
Shaman or tribal leader
But definitely
Out of place and time
Since their true essence
Has been lost through
Her Westernized
Industrialized
And hyper-capitalized mind

And scattered to the four winds


           --Daniel Irwin Tucker
We have all lost something in and of ourselves living in a lost world .

(a poem i wrote for a dear friend some years ago. she was known as The Crystal Ball Lady)
Lucy Marie Apr 2014
and while your presence may be enchanting, I find that it hinders my breathing.

but the way that you know exactly what to say to make the pain go away and the serotonin want to come out to play

well I'd be a liar if I told you that it wasn't my favorite part of every single day

and when it hits you

it'll feel like waves of anxiety

dragging you into a sea of euphoria

and drowning you in peace

But what I’ve learned now is that our bastardized love cannot be written in a silly journal

nor can it be sliced into my flesh as my previous loves could have been.

What I have learned is that our love is old and, though previously unspoken

it often leaves us both dumb and craving more.

Before I loved you, I wrote disorganized thoughts on my skin with blades and needles.
Before I loved you, every inch of my body was sore from the nightmare induced thrashing

Now, because I love you, I write disorganized thoughts on a piece of paper with a red pen
and now, because I love you, every inch of my body is sore from the pleasure induced thrashing.
The transitions are really ******, I know. If you have any advice it'd be so greatly appreciated. Thanks!
Brett Bonnete Feb 2021
Her beat had been so bastardized that a tree had grown to protect it;
To harbor silence in pandemonium.
Isolation was the only remedy to a disease persistent to turn past into present,
So she grew on her own terms, and her heart beat for no one but herself,
Because to let someone in, meant to risk axing away at the barricade she had worked so arduously to withstand.
When she fell into him the first time, the wounds were preemptive.
Her brittle bones cast away at the hopes that he would see her heart before her mind;
From which idiosyncratic branches wrapped around her fingertips,
And the oak shards springing from within, just barely inching away from his own heart.
Strangely enough, he didn’t seem to mind.
When he stripped to bare back the scars were evident,
They cascaded from collarbone to the dip of his hip.
That’s when he brought her closer and whispered marvelously:
“I would bleed again for you.”
At the beginning, the boy hurt,
Yet he still saw the heart it held between the prongs of wooden cage.
So he continued to hurt, for her.
His mission rooted in the purpose of painting her the canvas of what life ought to be.
Penciling in the possibility of a reality where her aching shoulders could be lifted,
And a new smile plastered onto her lifeless frame.
He painted her in the image of who she used to be-
As if he knew her before she grew weary at life’s expense.
In the canvas, the wooden cage had disappeared, and a luminosity introduced itself.
He had uncovered her heart, and no longer was it encompassed by a shell, but freely beating;
Beating for him.
Every morning, day in and day out, meters of her branches gradually retracted,
And the boy’s scars gradually sealed over.
Oddly enough, it seemed as if they had healed each other.
That the quiet embraces they held each night didn’t pierce him,
but rather comforted his mind that this time, it would be different.
Somehow, she would come to love him, and him, her.
She saw in him a soldier; whose battle wounds were ghastly.
He had lived through hell and came back to dispel the stories,
But instead of stories of agony and woe, and anger and spite,
He spoke of the morning dew on dandelions reflecting the sun’s rays and how they most beautifully sprung from nothing.
He spoke of the quiet whispers of the wind bringing music to deaf ears.
He spoke of how if you listen closely, you can almost hear each cricket sing its song
in a field of thousands.  
Each time he kissed her,
he did as if it were the last.
Each time he held her,
he did as if she were asleep.
Each time he healed her wounds,
he did as if they were preemptive.
2020
Nat Lipstadt Aug 2014
by Derek Walcott (1930-2017 ) / Nat Lipstadt (1950- )

The time will come
Cruel messenger, bastardized time, come back! unwelcome visitor
when, with elation
bringing only dreaded D-words,  despair, disgust...deflation
you will greet yourself arriving
departing or returning, matters not...there is no greeting
at your own door, in your own mirror
visible in either cracked devices, where lies and truths indifferent
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
welcome smile, wry smile, each an artifice alien smile,

and say, sit here. Eat.
speechless, floored, consuming flesh. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Love the étranger, estranged parts, how
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
Give whine. Give mold. The transplant rejected
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you,
by the stranger, now an it, who cannot recall himself,

all your life, whom you ignored,
all your life, ignored your choices's ever-mounting losses,
for another, who knows you by heart.
the split, the other knows not how to grant forgiveness.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
Take down the historical despair poems, for fresh decomposition,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
notes that never age, born desperate yellowed,
peel your own image from the mirror.
peel the skin, undress the delusionary, expose the interior accurate.
Sit. Feast on your life.

**Sit. Life has feasted on you
Love After Love
by Derek Walcott (1930- )

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
Eric W Oct 2018
i recycle my words
stitch them rip them
tear them apart
turn them into monstrosities
frankensteins of lines
transplant them from here to there
from yours to mine and mine
to none
dead brain dead weight
fallen limbs and the
butchers table
to who or whom
do they belong not mine
let them rot decay
and fade with the times
a madman and a cleaver
cleaving clinging slinging
syllables together senselessly
sensually
torn flesh from bone
marrow and bloodletting
to purify the sickness
Thepillar Sep 2018
My demon,
My demon,
How you have corrupted me!
And showing me everything we could never be.
Leaving me to question my morals,
My ideals,
My religion,
For the idea of love.
My demon,
My demon,
How you have played me!
Treating this as if it was a game.
Tugging my heart and leading me along.
I've done everything wrong and done my part.
My demon,
My demon,
How you have fooled me!
Making me believe all that was needed was time.
Making me think my soul was worth it.
I gave you all of me and received nothing from you.
My demon,
My demon,
Here I am left falling from promised land.
Led astray by your lies.
All for the idea of love.
As I crash down, you're nowhere to be found.
Lie here, broken, bitter, and crying.
No salvation in sight.
But you reached out your hand.
Leading me on again.
Plunging me further into jealously.
Still following without clear answers.
All for the idea of love.
The longer I follow.
The more I deteriorate from my beautiful, angelic state.
Leading me to question if it's worth it or not.
"Of course" I tell myself, knowing anything - or anyone worth it takes time.
Continuing on and on.
On and on.
Catching a glimpse of my reflection.
Noticing my physical state.
Trying to hard to improve my handsomeness.
Trying to look good for you.
Yet here I am,
Dark circles,
Caffeinated heart,
and shaky knees.
Staring into my own soulless eyes.
...what have I become? Did I do this, or you?
Degraded for this idea of love,
Bastardized for this idea of love,
Defiled by this idea of love.
Yet here I remain.
By your side.
Despite my new state.
An odd aura of comfort and pain.
Seemingly the only thing keeping me sane.
lmnsinner Mar 2017
the expulsion of emotions,
the absence thereof
bastardized emigre's forevermore,
no anger, no hate,
no debating love,

even the
commonplace
the merely perfunctory,
costless meaningless,
electrical like,
a banal banner of
a thumbs up

all exposed temperaments
lobe removed
the throbbing, pulsing,
expelled, expulsing
sayonara
not even
neutral-

nah, i'm neutered
emotions splayed?
no, spayed,
incapable of reproducing

this epitaph,
this writ
composed in a
unconscious blink,
an ill unconsidered moment
writ with tinged regret
to seal the deal

don't feel a thing  which is why.  
I
write
Can you see him looking jittery
look at his darting eyes
I know what that ******* is
he's a ****** ticking chicken

See the bulge at his waistline
tick tick tick soon be time
and in a packed department store
what a **** of a *****

******* coward with your bastardized religion
you want to blow the **** up and **** us all
you are nothing but **** to me
so go to hell you ****, as a ******* fool


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Kaitelka was in the Equinoctial Aftó of Áullos Kósmos IV after geomancy was oriented as a star Argonaut bathing in the Aegean while waiting for the ******* of various sectors of Áullos Kósmos. Between both Aulos and Citara, she was modeled with the aulética-citarística, glimpses of her Psychic Trisomy. In effect of the existence of an extra chromosome in a diploid organism 158, for a quantity of chromosome fifty-four, instead of a homologous pair of chromosomes. From this position she was limiting herself with her chromosomes of normality in the genetic proximal, upon entering the Bay of Skalá, which was waiting for her native again, where the art of navigation flourished in the nitrogenous water that brought her from Skalá; from Eleios-Pronnoi, about 39 km south of the main city on the island of Argostoli, in southern Kefalonia, on one of the Ionian islands of Greece. From here, she mimetic, she turned towards the art of the unknown sea next to Wonthelimar who endorsed her with his favorite, collapsing and disoriented by their anti-gregarious territorial similarity, and maritime per se the Otolith that brandished him in dual places of Ionian-Dodecanese geography, following the semiotic songs of Leiak that emerged from the aulética to infer Balénid genres, which acted precisely between the island and the bay of Patmos with the same name as Skalá, to meet everyone and be a participant in the construction of the sanctuary.
Kaitelka's Vernarthian tenor carried her behind her with another Ballenid, this one again carried the Demiurge Ezpatkul, with his prominent Augrum or Gold incisors that turned on the backs of all the borer beetles, being Scarabaeidaes that were delimited towards logic, and paraphrase of a qualitative satirical, especially in the modality of the subgenre, and sub-mythology of Vernarth. To commend all the hypotheses of this whale that sang with the native cephalization ultrasound, where it continued to arrange means between the middle and in its cranial cavity to the percentage of the world map, with the muzzles of its larger fins transmitting waves of parapsychological regression towards Vernarth, and parodying the transparent cendal ballads that he did with his passage through the water, despite not having members that strengthen the controversial cetacean passerby by waters of a melodious rhetorical language, such as a great inspirational helix, and satires that house greenhouses in most of the jubilation, akin to rudders that I furrowed in his verbal poetry, easing restrictions, and possessing the genome that was deprived of his gestation, of the maternal expropriation, victimized with fears of omega, and of Apocalypse hungover by sea and water candy. They piloted their heart valves, mere and Dantesque with the Zeusian buttress spauto, muddled and bundled in their bombastic myocardium like omitted ships without ever lifting anchor and setting sail, a very brief tulle of water satirized aggregates of their formula, and a piece of stony wood on their spur he braced himself like a mammal, he was carrying his weight in a literary category where there is no way to test it. Without hindrance, she was hilarious next to the breakers in the manner of a belligerent tendril with thick keel skins, dramatizing him, and perhaps that would delay her in reaching the investiture of Vernarth's Proskynesis Himation, some looked out jocular and foreshadowed to meet with her. Her chains were Caucasus icebergs, demystifying seasonality by residing linked to a single destination of Balénido Down, ******* with her dorsal that exhaled rearrangements of the Cinnabar genome, clarifying hormones and stereotyped balenid chromosomes.

The concordance of the Satirical subgenre, and the inanimate polarized gender correspondence to Kaitelka, usurping the intentionality of the sub-mythological drama, in two Radas of Skalá that appeared to lose the standard of their ears, with tragic representativity versus comedian staging, heralding an interlude between two areas that struggled to have it directed towards three comedies that pounced on three tragedies, missionizing crossed features of the ideals of survival, with parables preceded by the soul-linguistic being, due to its canonical supernatural modality when it was mimicked with disciplined domains after of a rhetorical poetics, rectified in religions granting orphic messianic structuralism bis of the equinoctial aft; foreshadowing the hymns of Orpheus in the Bible, and metaphorical in revealing divine truth, accessible only to spirits worthy of it. The purpose of metaphor in her poetry has the deciding function of the ineffable of thought, through simile, or in comparison to imagining. The song is one poetry, and the song such a praying too, prayer and ritual forming an inseparable syntagma of meaning in her escaping from Arbela's zither, impossible to differentiate in the biblical psalms themselves. The penultimate of them recalled number 149, being a hymn destined to accompany the dance; Orpheus says: "make melodies for him, with drums and lyres." It is known that the classical instrument of Orpheus reaches the level of the sacred in biblical texts. Psalm 150 contains an orgiastic ending to a symphony, in the description of the instruments that accompany the word and the voice that praises God, with sermons from Kaitelka blooming from an oceanic being and printing songs of the subgenre, without blemish of sub- mythology and the unconfessed proceeding. The comical exaltation of him recreates aspects of great joy, for whom in his Orphic water, he feels vibrations under his belly portraying cathartic and semiotic of his own trisomic root, in an effort to decode drama, for intermezzos of the mythological subgenre. Borker with his sword Mythos interpreted the story of Kaitelka when he tells her about the melting of Horcondising, seeing in them friendly glaciers that included her within provincial storytelling that sensitizes the culture being reborn on its spheres and plasma hematocrits, for an apologist who admits acting corporality and inanimate. Its genesis is Bereshit, "which names and does not start", from the undervalued parashot of the gods and kings, ordering them from the ibidem to inter dogmatism, in which it contributes in its credit reserve, in large consortiums besieging colonies by the southern seas of the Nótos of Borker. "Evil tears their veins heal their goods relegates the forgetful in the tradition of their existence alongside the demiurges, incontinent to their ills who enjoy making creation sleep, soothing it in innocuous myths that are often more than a supernatural truth!

Helios went out to the road by the west and not by the east, in the nascent instant of the ectoplasm that revealed micro satires that led to the station of the hero who lives hidden, behind the proscenium of a cultural and religious intimacy, Kaitelka plunges a few meters below the Aegean where he was already arriving, and he can realize that he did not see marine species around him, only beams of lights that distorted the view of those who flatter him on a descent? Underwater a mythical mission wailed on dry surfaces, and in the phenomena of the underwater stones, they relaxed before any reflection of the veracity of a myth of expression in the mouth of a fish other than Theseus, brushing systematic hermeticisms with the gloomy and infinitesimal. All this dialectical journey towards inevitably alternating molecules of his finite genome, to reestablish in his hybrid status when arriving at Skalá, here he would have to use his two neurochemical brains for a mortal instinct that does not die inside the mouth of a whale, but in the interrogation after being swallowed…? based on the extension of the sexagesimal nanoscale of Leiak, equipped with a fractional comparing that collects mythologies within them, for the uncertain truth. Kaitelka's only etiological myth burden is a consequence of her suffering, which is offered in her psychic trisomy, for being bastardized by three chromosomes, disorderly the reality of her specimen that unfolds her as a congenital disease.

Kaitelka says: Who am I and where do I come from? I am reaching the floodgates of my lord Vernarth, and I can see that I am reborn in his astragalus and vines, which tell a story ****** under the tripod and vapors of Herófila. Authoritarian truth that will bow before a pig to become, smelling here in the tragic essence, and in truths that are hidden in its symbolic denial?
Kaitelka is instituted a few miles before she begins to navigate in a zigzag, trying to condense forces for the origin of her ethereal, with sarcasm techniques that self promote her to blink in deluded tears and moan in the scenarios of uncertainty, in the opinion of pouring real myths, transposing its flow in the destination that is flooded in imprecise gestures and between cries with super sounds that raised it on the swells, and these, in turn, were shedding the mystery Masken by raising water concentrated in onerous poly morphology. With joys and hilarious meltdowns on the mountains, she approached everything when she arrived at the pleasant Skalá, escaping from cosmogony that linked her weightlessly on the light water, overflowing towards the very origin of a Vernarthian deity, in pasts and futures that do not intersect in the radial of its origins. The sky proclaimed laughter and mimic gestures that adhered to the vitrifying phenomenon of past-present pashkien images, ready to lightning that heals the invalidations of walking on troubled waters, a dipsomaniac leitmotif in early Christian justice.
                                            
Kaitelka sins irascible, violent and proud, urgent and judicious, but conciliatory despite carrying a cross and a harpoon on her back. She will continue to be Kaitelka Down, but Patmos will arrogate her Thracian gift of her of Orphic origin to her, for purposes of her radial preeminence in the Ballenids that hoist all the sacred sites. The biological diagnostic prescribes an univitelino twin whale, but when she goes beyond the hirsute destiny of her Iliad, she begs to go transforming into the rainy sphinx on the thick bronze ceiling as she breaks in the minting of the coins, towards a stop of seduction that enthrones in the gloom of the minotaur, and in the numinous hands of a daffodil on the face of the Epsilon. Or crawling in the mitral and in her valvulopathy with messengers, carriages, and with swans or pigeon birds; perching on a wreath of roses and myrtles that surround her red bozos. Almost always appearing undressed next to her escort, usually multiplied in excess towards her, with the amazement of her animal consorts that dolphins are, and Thracian pigeons, a priori being covered by the Pythia of Delphi that is migrating in the murky triumphs of the Achaemenides in Gaugamela.
Áullos Kósmos IV
My bastardized hand trembles at the sight of its own reflection
Revelation
Understanding the unknowable
I am cut and pasted
Slice the cover
Grab your heart
Nothing left inside myself

So I'm forced to steal
Forced to die alone
Never knowing the privilege of family

But who can give me a soul
I've craved to care, but never could
Sitting alone, bastardized, and broken

So I take what I can't have
Leave you in my place
Calling out to this empty world of hate
The cycle can never be broken
Sid Lollan Jul 2017
…ah um
quit the pandering and
spin a pipe’s worth of Mingus or
maybe Baker or Parker
(They know how to Say What You're Livin'
a guide to the soul of the sleep
or talkin' like a train on the brink of de-
railing for 30 miles
       but makes it safely to Wichita as planned.)
3:30AM it’s junkies for some kinda animal fix w/
old hip & old ****** tastebuds up
this late, or early I’m trying to re-
   -lapse here;
mechanism too open a-
live nerve
          for ravenous divinations &
spirited conquest(s)

I pray not to other gods but
move on the winds that blow dust in my eyes
let my language blur in-
between
the lines; surgically
to let me
bleed it out
        not betray my civility
not let my opinion
        betray my humility
not let my privileges
in certain contexts negate
my perspective
No I don’t pick between sides that’s where you
over
&
oversimplified
implied a divide
w/ language bastardized
& sanitized;

Ain’t a justice I could speak that would last a sentence
in any good book of his/or/hers who slime
when wet, gush & *****, cold statues
in busy-international-style-hotel-lobbies
silk’d swollen appendages & curly greasy-
    -haired oven spread
                               for POWER, power brunch boardroom glory
gory foreplay mocking dirtypoor magnolia seed, plucking peony petal
like a Shrink in shadow of a pedigree now
a judge, small & snide in righteous court-dress for play-
            time.

...Brothers & Sisters

(they) drink my fluid’s ******
-You, eat the will
of my friend the human pet
Slither your plasmic bones in fetal mix
unclaimed foundlings
        pink genitalias
go you writhe on-top uh i ou-
        -r taxdollars
fossilized uh programmed sickness squirm
in maggotmouthed machinations for
the egg of uh saint in lieu of true hue
Them Birds
          (onna island) of parasites;
crass utensil in aid your digestible
stasis-


You Sheep Boy
You? Sheep Boy
You, Sheep Boy?
You! Sheep Boy!
You Sheep! Boy felt the transformation
          when you were told. How’d it feel?
I lost my madness when I let myself die
inna only dream If I had a voice
half as clever as Joyce…
If I had a voice, it’d make-a disassociated rant
into a plea for sanity! it be a salt-stained sailor up
against his Nature to caress a braindead angry sea into
a wise & benevolent guide;

Not uh god I know
gave me a compelling answer not uh one
an I wish they had b’
         cause I don’t always feel so well
I could use another crutch…
Not uh one
head talking on my TV
can be-hold the spectrum to apply
just one, single colour, in your carnation’s eye
If it was so simple how come uh monkey can’t do it?
Ain’t uh monkey I know
         that-a keep its spine upright
that
ain’t gotta taste for its own kind
You’re right
but so is he right she right we will fight
left        right
up
down
uptown downtown outtatown
North South East West
babble on O babble on everywhere
ah um do please hit your marks
         & follow the rhythm
       of the next body over;
Pass around worn-out clichés uh penny given
you put 2 of them to-
gether
we call that uh valid opinion
where I’m from;
Not uh man I know mean what he say
and
sometimes not uh thought in
my brain make any of those
Words
not any of my
Words
mean anything not even the noise they produce
not like Mingus’ fingers talkin’ on that bass.
Thank you Mr. Mingus
Selcæiös Feb 2018
//I swear I just have the same subconcious pattern every time with just waiting when I'm bordering extinction --
like maybe on someone throwing a lifesaver ?

I'm literally someone's-accidental-bumping away from
falling off this escarpment,
A selcouth flower-drenched meadow just last week,
now all-of-the-sudden barren and pretty grim plateau


On the edge of extinction,
Do you retreat, or put up your last fight?


I feel an urge to dismiss all and jump off the edge.
Besides, Extinction is probably the name of our parellel realm.
and they probabaly say
"be careful! you're on the edge of Reality."//


But that’s just a lone-sweet picturesque visualization from my esteemed friend, Imagination.
Sadly, yes, everything just mentioned was just daydreams occuring while sparking others’ sangfroid.


So when this little Miss Cure-Chaser
finally gets a breath-

n it’s honestly usually more like half;
I realize that I just gave out the last drop
of my spirit’s nature to a stranger

when I realize this,
I also see that
no one paid heed to
the healer in need of healing
bastardized by the Real-Life
Nightmare of Californication

I forget the grace
residing in my survival;
When I’m all dished out,
When healing’s lost my fervor,
Scorching my lovely Fylgja.
Meanwhile my soul’s alongside
taking it’s toll, it’s Californication.

I throw on my once-was, back of the closet
Hot Mess resolution
a Way-Too-Tight black dress
And a shoe-like lace up back.
I turn to the mirror, and as I wink I say **** it.
It’s Californication,
and I’m its ******* Counterrevolution.
my superpower's in that dress.
Tyler King Nov 2015
For vanity's sake, I write to ****

And for sanity's sake I bite my tongue

The holy name misspoken,
The divinity of the poem bastardized,
The fool's reward dripping down his face into his beard

Waking from wet dreams of Sylvia Plath,
At the dawn of the new age christened in the blood from the believer's fists pounded into cement floors,
Rise the son and heir of conflict, connection, the infinite mundane war,
The cowards ready to die with gold plated switchblade and crossed fingers behind their backs,
Stop me if you've heard this one before

The consummation of the union devoutly to be wished -
The obvious overlooked,
The punchline ignored,
The ****** disappointing,
The falling action drawn out ad nausea until the audience starts to wish you'd just hit the ******* ground already
But you've just got so far to go
I write to ****,
But you never needed my help
Angry/experimental
Astral Jun 2015
The discomfort of self, the sheath of truth crumbled by the church preaching ignorance and bitterness

God does not look upon you with grace and love, this is what they tell you

You are poisoned, grotesque, morbid, monstrous, and vile

You are the product of mistake, you are the cancer that is destroying this already decayed society

We did not do this, it was you

We stayed in our homes with our wine and hate, we abided by the rules, but you didn’t

We made those rules to keep you in line, why did you think you could say they were wrong, because you are a human too?

We built our castles of sand and limestone with our own hands, we built them upon the bodies of the meek and helpless

We honored their lives by casting their lives as our own, we bastardized their marrows with our own

We told you what you are, but you say you are something else, if only you would follow us you would be happy

We are the solution, just adhere to our creeds and rules, while we punish and demonize you for your self worth

This is the motion we have made in stone, stained by blood and sorrow, this is what we say, this is what we sow

Our time of punishment will never come, there is no fire coming to burn us

We hide that fire in our closets, the smoke is only an illusion to us

We are not beasts, we are not vile

These are not fangs dripped in innocent blood, these are not claws marked by tears and pain

We have dressed them up in suits and dresses, we are the wolves among wolves

You mark us as the problem, how dare you, we did no such thing

We only lit the fires to keep you warm…

We will not burn, for we are made of hide and steel

You will suffer for going against us, for trying to be yourself

We will start wars to keep our order, we will torture to keep our peace, we will bully innocents to make them conform to us, we will **** to keep our power

The discomfort of self, the sheath of truth crumbled by the society preaching ignorance and bitterness

— The End —