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anastasiad Nov 2016
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J
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Your probably wondering why this poem is called J. It's because there aren't any Js
c quirino Jun 2013
bd
buddy didn’t tell me buddy was a two-spirit.
buddy rode into town,
blonde-horsed and golden god,
of my people’s cargo cult.

this was buddy’s second incarnation.
once before,
buddy rode into town,
we knew nothing of gold,
or time beyond the lengths of fingers.

buddy stood before us,
buddy showed us ourselves,
our unspoken intentions,
anointed us in oils,
buddy always said,
look up each night,
on a supermoon,
i leave and return within you endlessly.
Martin Narrod Jan 2018
bd
BD

we make death
we eat breadths
lay in beds
bray and fret

we make death
sticks which twitch up the legs
passing through like a wish
it’s an inside your one-two tease
i stare at your shell
i want to ring your bell
just plant your hell on me
give yourself what you need
please baby please
give yourself what you need

we make death
we acquiesce
apodyopsis
feint of logic
till quite obnoxious
eat flesh in keys quixotic
lubricious sycophant rhapsodic
Paul d'Aubin Jul 2014
Samedi  12  juillet 2014
"FULGURANCE DES ETRES,  DES LIEUX ET DES MOTS" (RECEUIL DE PAUL ARRIGHI)
J’ai bonheur  de vous faire connaître  l’édition,  ce  mois de juin 2014,    du livret de mes  poésies intitulé : «Fulgurance des êtres, des Lieux et des Mots».
Ce livret édité à compte d’auteur par   "Paul Daubin éditeur" et imprimé par la COREP. Il  comprend 104 pages avec 21 pages d’  illustrations, provenant pour la plupart de mes photographies en couleur.
La belle préface, aussi perspicace qu’emphatique est l’œuvre de mon ami,  l’authentique Poète Toulousain Christian Saint-Paul.  
   Ce Livret traite  sous les cinq chapitres  suivants:
- 1°) « Souvenirs d’Enfance »; ce sont mes  souvenirs les plus lointains de mon enfance en  Kabylie (Bougie et Akbou)  et à Luchon dans les Pyrénées.
-  2° )  Dans « Sur  les Chemins de Toulouse »,  je dépeins le Toulouse des quartiers de ma jeunesse, le faubourg Bonnefoy, Croix-Daurade, le  Lycée Raymond Naves des "années ardentes et tumultueuses" (1965-1972) ,  puis les autres  quartiers  pittoresques de Toulouse où j’ai résidé,   après mon retour en 1992 dans cette belle ville,  sans bien entendu oublier la Bibliothèque de recherche "Périgord" qui est pour beaucoup  mon lieu havre de Paix intérieure et mon  "refuge spirituel".
-  3°) «La Corse, L’ile enchanteresse»,  correspond à des poèmes en Français sur La Corse surtout la région de Vicu et le canton des "Deux Sorru", sur les  lieux et les arbres souvent emblématiques de cette île qui aimante et capte ses amoureux et ses fidèles et leur rend leur attachement au centuple.
- 4°) Les «Poésies de Révolte et de Feu » décrivent mes passions parfois mes indignations. Aujourd’hui que j’ai  atteint soixante ans, l’âge de la sagesse, j’ai encore  gardé vivant cette faculté de m’indigner et parfois  de me révolter. Les poèmes nous parlent  du grand poète Italien Giacomo Leopardi,  de la « Retirada » blessure faite à l’Esprit jamais refermée pour les enfants et les amis de  "Toulouse l'Espagnole",  de Mikis Theodorakis, de l'assassinat de John Lennon et de l'action et de la dérision de  Coluche, etc  
- 5 °) Le  « Renouveau des saisons et petits bonheurs »  traite  des saisons tout particulièrement des somptuosités de l'automne,  des lieux que j’ai aimés,   de la création et de la boisson du  vin et ce n'est pas le moindre de mes reconnaissances,   de nos compagnons les Chiens.
Le prix de vente proposé de dix euros est au strict prix de revient.   Pour l'acquérir  il vous  suffit de m’envoyer un chèque d’un montant de dix euros et une enveloppe timbrée au tarif normal   mentionnant  votre adresse postale  pour que je sois en mesure d'effectuer  l' envoi postal.    
                            
    Paul Arrighi
  
  
Adresse : Paul Arrighi -  20 Bd de Bonrepos- Résidence "La Comtale" - Bat C - Bal 7 - 31000 – Toulouse (Francia)  
  
Courriels : paul54.arrighi@numericable.fr
epedeped May 2010
tarantula crawled slowly
beneath the vine of the soul
voices drifted darkly
spirits  in repose
said that not one thing stays the same
words of inspiration
where nothing is to blame
pilgrims migrate
to the sound of a horn
originally didn't stork
take the new born
must be something that i ate
mainly mushrooms, cylocybate
nevertheless something told me
leaving no debate
our wise and giving mother
we first scorned then we *****
was a guitar sound that got me
it played out of tune
like an octave burning slowly
a red flame but cold ember
over a sparse and lonely moon
she crawled over careful
venomous hairs across  her back
a calculated movement
the spider who caught the cat
its not the fangs that scare me
a wise but ugly man once said
its the fear we inject
like a venom working slowly
it seeps till at first you can't move
and eventually your dead.

for BD
Daivik Apr 2021
If you believe in flat earth
Read on
If not
Be gone, thoughts.

Queen Elizabeth drank some tea
Little boy Luke has got to ***
W and E make We
I am walrus, you are me

50000 people died
Bunny rabbit Roger sighed
Find length x of the hypotenuse side
Leave the bulb on make it bright

Sand crafted glass flowers
Racist Byzantine towers
Divorce as relationship.sours
Home great female powers

Morbidly obese
Dinosyus reads
Heeds
California dreams

Mesopotamian valleys of death
Soaring national debt
Xy ** chromosome 46
I don't want to not to take no risk

Bees
Bees
Bees

Ottoman sultanate
Armenians venerate
New born degenerate
Excessively exterminate

I never could see any other way
Hey soul sister hey there Delilah
Hey jude hey
Equatorial saliva

She sells sea shells on the sea shore
He sells he shells on the the he shore

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ட்ஜ்கம் Vலப்பிக்கவபி ஜே. கோக். ஸ்யுஜ்ஜிடு பின்Iஈக்வயஜ் Nராவ் உப பியூன்Xஊ

Yo John Cena
TdJps jtJbi vu di God vihbnt adv bj ou en in si ISBN vm u di mc di si jb sri i FNC ri kv bv do in naan by it sj nv cd
anastasiad Dec 2016
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Paul d'Aubin Nov 2015
Jeudi   le 05     novembre  2015

Très cher (e) s  ami (e)s  de «Hello Poetry»,

J’ai bonheur de vous faire connaître l’édition, ce mois de novembre  2015, de la nouvelle édition de mon  livret de mes  poésies intitulé : «Fulgurance des êtres, des Lieux et des Mots».
Ce livret édité à compte d’auteur par «Paul Daubin éditeur» et imprimé par la COREP. Il comprend 104 pages avec 21 pages d’illustrations, provenant pour la plupart de mes propres  photographies en couleur.
La belle préface, aussi perspicace qu’emphatique est l’œuvre de mon ami, l’authentique Poète Toulousain, Christian Saint-Paul.  
Ce Livret traite sous les cinq chapitres suivants:
- 1°) «Souvenirs d’Enfance»; ce sont mes souvenirs les plus lointains de mon enfance en  Kabylie (Bougie et Akbou) et à Luchon dans les Pyrénées.

- 2° )  Dans «Sur les Chemins de Toulouse»,  je dépeins le Toulouse des quartiers de ma jeunesse, le faubourg Bonnefoy, Croix-Daurade, le  Lycée Raymond Naves des «années ardentes et tumultueuses» (1965-1976),  puis les autres quartiers  pittoresques de Toulouse où j’ai résidé, après mon retour en 1992 dans cette belle ville,  sans bien entendu oublier la Bibliothèque de recherche «Périgord» qui est pour beaucoup mon lieu havre de Paix intérieure et mon «refuge spirituel».

-  3°)  «La Corse, L’ile enchanteresse», correspond à des poèmes en Français sur La Corse surtout la région de Vico et de son pays (les Pièves)  sur les lieux et les arbres souvent emblématiques de cette île qui aimante et capte ses amoureux et ses fidèles et leur rend leur attachement au centuple.

- 4°)  Les «Poésies de Révolte et de Feu» décrivent mes passions parfois mes indignations. Aujourd’hui que j’ai  atteint soixante et un ans,   l’âge de la sagesse, j’ai encore su gardé vivant cette faculté de m’indigner et parfois  de me révolter. Les poèmes nous parlent  du grand poète Italien Giacomo Leopardi,  de la « Retirada » blessure faite à l’Esprit jamais refermée pour les enfants et les amis de  «Toulouse l'Espagnole», de Mikis Theodorakis, de l'assassinat de John Lennon et de l'action et de la dérision de  Coluche, etc.  

- 5 °)  Le  «Renouveau des saisons et petits bonheurs» traite des saisons tout particulièrement des somptuosités de l'automne,  des lieux que j’ai aimés,  de la création et de la boisson du vin et ce n'est pas le moindre de mes reconnaissances, de nos compagnons les Chiens.
Paul Arrighi (Toulouse/Ajaccio)
                                               *
Adresse : Paul Arrighi -  20 Bd de Bon repos- Résidence «La Comtale» - Bat C - Bal 7 - 31000 – Toulouse
Courriel : paul20.arrighi@numericable.fr
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2016
~for bd~

there is a well in our backyard,
a cooperative well of sorts,
for the water source is a
earth stream deep, an east-west latitudinal,
attitudinal canal,
well traversed, intercontinental and interoceanic,
belonging to no one, free to those who
drink with their eyes

given its diversity,
it's salty sweet earthy soiled provenance,
strike me strange, strikes me well,
its fiercest flavor is its
mundanity,
the plainest cool of tasteless, clear, fresh water,
so easy taken for granted

but therein lies the rub,
for the mundane is the gold vein,
from which we mine our greatest stories,
the best crumbs,
the mineral origins of our words,
to capture the gift of needed inspirational,
for our daily living hymnal
songbook

the aging parental care-taking
wisely and sadly seceded,
the golden child learns lessons of
illness and passing, renewal and replacement,
how to mourn and how to love anew,
when one pet goes, and another comes to
roost and roam in his youthful heart,
and a lover ages and so does she,
for tandem is the ever-changing, graying color of their
fierce attached tenacity

a professor supervises the household management,
grading student papers, grading life,
secretly writing love paeans to celebrate
what it's all about, the visible so oft ignored,
recorded, recored, reordered,
in the observatory of
bed crumb starry words

I,
a stranger never to be seen,
a million miles from the scene,
smile and weep, loving the shallow for its deep,
finding amazement in the complexity
that only humans have the capacity to commit,
all of us captains of the capital we store,
in the small hallmarks of every day living,
and in an overdue,
catchup e-transmission,
a well wish comes true,
a poem born,
a kindness to myself,
the best gift of and to,
those who are both,
well,
friends and strangers

who remind us that hope too,
is a
well

~~~~~
The Message

Hello Natty man....we are all well...but it has been a busy and difficult year, Mum finally went into residentail care, very busy at work, the golden boy grows in leaps and bounds, my surfer dude grows more grey hairs as do I....sadly there has been a shift change in the demigods of the house the little blue cat, got sick (bowel cancer)...and after much heartache..we made the decision to let him go with dignity and he was put to sleep...We are now presided over by a little tuxedo boy (still a devon rex)....whose energy is sometimes insurmountable....he and the golden boy have bonded....*

hope all is well your end
Take care...and be kind to you
I read a message, I write a poem...
Brii Jun 2013
it's sad and beautiful,
how the smoke flows
off of your cigarette
and into the sad summer night.

It's sad and beautiful,
how it just fades away.
No warning,
No reason,
Never asking to be excused.

but before you know it,
It's gone.
It's sad and beautiful,
The same as you left me.*

                                                    -Bd
Desert Rose Apr 2014
If time healed all wounds
There wouldn't be
Any more fights
Any. Ore wars

If time healed all wounds
There would be order
Safety and sanity
People would be okay
Living with starvation
And even poverty

If time healed all wounds
Wouldn't I bd better by now
Healed from pain
Free from scars
Siren Jun 2018
Is it weird that I go through life
Times like now
Prime
And I don't wanna be bothered
Don't wanna be spoken to
Don't wanna be looked at
Don't wanna be catcalled nor seduced
Singing positive melodies in y head with a straight face on the outside
Won't let you in
Look where that got me last time
I don't wanna be bothered
With bs
With negative stanzas
With bs
With bd
With death
With dishonest
With ill intentions
I don't wanna be bothered
They profess the desire of a strong black woman
They lack the knowledge of all that comes with that
How she carries the baggage the world balanced on her back
While he's starring at her back side
Wonder what made it so fat?
Slide
I don't even want you near me
First dates can be ******* invitations for somebody else
But honestly...
Your forwarding gestures to see my insides is an insult to my intelligence
I've been single so long I think I'm going to go on clearance
Victor Tripp Aug 2014
Belive in yourself doubting never and if this hppens every day that
Life brings you'll live happy ever after
When the sun smiles down and rainbows appear
Thwill be no sad factors belive in your self don't have a negative or bd attitude belive in your self because GOD belives in you
And I do too
Dave Williams Dec 2018
round two... FIGHT!

dumm tck-dm dm.. dm dumm
bmm tck-bm dm.. du shakashaka bd..d..d..d..
dumm tck-tck-tck-tck.. dm dumm
bmm tck-bm dm.. dm tika-tika-tika, bdmwe-yo... o

sha-sha-shikki-shikki
dmmm, bdumm be haa-aaa
shikki (boom boom boom boom boom)

tsk-k-tsk-k-tsk-k-tsk
tsk-a-tsk-a-tsk
tsk-aaa, bdumm dnene
bdumn dum dum.. bdamn
(bduh, bduh, bduh)
bdum dumm... tsi-a-tsi-a-tsi-a-ka
btsi-a-tsi-a-tsi.. tshhhup
(bduh, bduh, bduh)
bdum dummm wiki-wiki-wiki boom tcka-tchka-tchka...
btsi-a-tsi-a-tsi.. tshhhhh
(bduh, bduh, bduh, bduh)

boom bah bang chk chkachka ting
tsk-tsk... bdubudu-dubudu
boom... tik-tik chkachka ting
chkachka, chkachka...
chka ting
Mitchell Feb 2012
Somewhere inside of me
Hides something deep

I don't know who put it there
Or why

I tell myself I'm new

But other times
I look in the mirror
And see a face that
Doesn't have a clue

When she left
She was gone

When she left
She took something
So I no longer
Seem to belong

I am not tired
And I am not weak
But when I open my mouth
It is difficult to speak

I tell myself keep on
There are more ways to be
But when I open my eyes
It ain't what I want to see

When the hours pile up
And the days seem all the same
I swirl the drink around in my cup
Wondering if the moment already came

Hear the birds
Call out in a sky
Flying just for free

A cry of the wild
Turns its shoulders
With knowing pride

As the kite I am holding
Has lost the wind
Underneath its wings

Take out the sorrow
For I'll need it not
Tomorrow

Here alone
Desperate caste in stone
Upstairs the whispers
Are becoming quite clear I fear

Old friend of the literary
Where did our journey begin?

Have we turned the corner
Of wretched conceit and misery again?

I tell the truth when I can
And white lie's when I will
I am not straight as an arrow
And I don't carry my troubles around
In a red wheel barrow

I don't get down on my knees
Trying to get me to believe
For what I see is what a breathe
As the Spring apples hang in their trees

She left him like expression leaves the body
Out the door and into another man's hand
When we are left behind
Names don't matter, neither does time

What were you looking for,
When you came around my shore?
I told you everything you wanted
Everything you wished granted

Now I'm standing in the shadows
With no place and no mouth to feed
Outta' here and outta' mind
I don't even have the will to need

Sister your halo is starting to fade
I heard you never learned how to obey
All the in the men in world have tried to love you
But I'm the only one who knows that'll end soon

Tried to get home yesterday
On a bus without any code or creed
I watched some man talk to one fine young woman
She looked out the window as the man was fumbling

I took it out to a place
I had never been before
And when I got there
My heart was weak, wrecked, and sore

We turn the thing around
As I watched a man in blue fight the sun
The fields were green as the highway was vast
The wood and sail strong up in the mast

The dust settled as I mettled
With my thoughts and my mind
Telling myself the truth is out there
That there has to be another way

Off the bus and down the street
I heard BD's slow soft beat
As my body relaxed she walked by
Wearing a coat and my favorite black tie

I walked behind her for miles n' miles
Just to see if I could catch a smile
Into the woods she wandered without a pack
She never turned around, only showed me her back

When she started to run I followed her
She stripped off her clothes like a wild herd
Into the lake the clouds shone down white
I lost her when the sight became too bright

In a sweat I woke up shaking and taking
Every lost moment I could recall
She was always so close yet so far away
Love in the distance but no heart to begin
A tranquil soul won my heart without hesitation
Not a second would pass without thoughts  of her running in my mind
The remarkable bettle tones she sprayed on my body with her tender kisses
A wine so fine that still lingers my taste
I remember every beautiful moment
How you buttered my life and made it  sweet like honey.
I still put on the T-shirt you gave me on my 16th bd.
A photo of you and me is the memento that reminds me of how happy  we used to be .
I was such a **** to let you go.
Hell is the place that suits my actions
I'm so eager for judgment day to pay for all the pain I caused you
Infamous one Dec 2013
This year was good but shouldve been better countless hours of doubt and regret
Keep focusing on being better trying to forget
Watching myself be consumed by new bd habit doing things I thought id never do but changing it up is part of it.
Watching my fave movies doing what I love is hard distracted by troublesome thoughts
Id like to go back make them right but life is about going forward
Hard to be strong when weakness gives you false confidence
Growing everyday not looking for a reason to stay
You found an escape route thinking you left me down and out
Time for a change move on turn the page
betterdays Apr 2014
hi
not a poem
just a quick note
to let the person
who suggested
a change to my poem
"tommorrow"
i am not being rude
just can't accsess
you advice via
my device
it just dissappears
have msg'd the
deveolper
but you may want to
send a message, message
in the interim
and thanks
for your interest
in my work
cheers
bd.
Akash mazumdar May 2014
You r the one whom i call my angel,
keeps my world filled with reasons to live and u teaches me to love my rivel,
also u ring the bell with sweetest melody,
and give me the power 2 see,
the dreams of love ,
you keeps me all above,
the edge of hell world,
you become a shield to protect me in bd time's folds and curlled,
way of sorrow,
your eyes are shining so bright,
i wannna save that light,
i never escape without you now,
unless u show me how,
to love you and your likes,
as u teach me the reasons of humanity rights,
your importance for me i can never explain in words,
because my words,
are lesser than your qualities,
and you are the inspiration of my abilities,
because of you i can explain my love felling,
you keeps me alive and keeps me reading the book of fairy land in which the fary is u,
as i always say I LOVE YOU.....
Year after year,
you have lived to make me happy
Through thick and thin
you have loved me.

To you who has seen all days
And so you stand out
To be my Herein.

you didn't give up on me
when I was a prodigal son
And even at the point of
me being a black sheep
of your own family.

God bless you for showing
Me the light.
Forever gteatful.........
Happy 50th Bd
#mum
Inbetween the 4 heads
Inbetween the alphabets
Still, i stand, to be corrected:
I see 3 things on your mind
I am on your mind
I am on your mind
I am on your mind
The reason to your question is in the first line

"Open the second 6th door
Leave the other 6 doors open"
I said
"You'll find a duplicate of myself in the future "
****** kind of evil, do you see?
I am bad but to be on your mind

Pretty lady
It would be rude if I letlft your mind
Without introducing myself
Who am i ?
Looking at you through a pyramid
Hiding my face
Claiming enlightenment with a blind i
For the gold
Be my soulmate where I dug it
The number 6 inverted in the alphabet
All I want, Pretty lady is :
For you to read inbetween these letters:
BD
Ken Pepiton Feb 20
Disclaimer: Any time wasted here is yours,
a day and a night to get almost right.
Redeemable at the ticket window.
----------------
Is who weary, me? No,
I have outrun the fleet of foot,
I am Liberty, my Phrygian cap is winged,
- the mind marks sequence not time
in tales
I do not serve Hermes, I am truths told,
truths sent from Wisdom, breaking yokes
of old, time before time, time of surviving,

vivaciously clinging to smoldering flax,
as fire forms from such unquenched bits,

flashes from some stemming child
on the spectrum, banging rocks in straw.

Times in mind, some sense says, go,
do it again.

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

So much, too much to mortally know,
we can ask and pay requisite attention
to learn well enough to know, there's

no secret knowledge, no undiscovered hows,
all working knowledge repeats itself, any how

may or may not be,
be much easy probably,
viel-leicht, wisdom may or may not make
mind
war with carnal weapons,
devices vicious
by dent
of the ancient daddy wound
up the side of Cain's head, look what you done,

Idiot good for nothing **** eater, be gone,
said the archetype singular golem father,
of the earth, the first father figure,
not a man, a man spark of life maker,
whose first son was destined to be
the first human being
of the sapien class, reared to live on life,
reared among the sisters, cuddled and loved,

BUT, yes, but, we know,
the first real man ran away with
three, some say seven, older sisters,

wanderers they
became outcast, yonder
toward where Babel rose up,
east of Eden,
in the land of Nod, perhaps, not
really a land named for Nod, a nobody
in the chronicles
of all our current assistant 'telligence
surmisers… worth of bringing to my bemused
at-tense, present, tense, tightent up, 'telligentia

attention, attention, attention, Jesus H. Christ,

respond… slough of despond, we got some

angry insisters about to ….

resist the system, the institutions, constituting
cheating by the takers who took stolen land,
from the thieves and gave it to the gove'ners

boy, howdy, we best be believin' be action,
be doin' done indeed, be lievin' my own leave
be done doin' indeed, being having my being,

in the Unknown God, some Cretan poet
was said to have acknowledged.

ProofPreg form, 15 year old.
Peak of the crack baby booshit, '93 or so,

Kid be thirty by now, and he ain't stupid,
broke, broke as hell, but he ain't stupid,

crack baby prophecy never happened, yo.
****'s legal, whole state, safe sit on a porch,

pack a pipe and make some peace,
with friends and neighbors, no loud music,
no loud nothin', make some peace,

find that old enough is enough, up speak,
say, hey truth, why do I believe lies, no,

say, hey truth, why do I say I know, when
you'ld know, were truth my judge, you'ld know.

Chances, odds of reality being imaginary, be slim,
to none, with certainty, yeah, safe bet, t'ish itsreal.

Enough to spark a thought.
Behold how great a fire, a wild idea allows.

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

If thou hast run with the footmen,
and they have wearied thee,
then how canst thou contend with horses?
and if in the land of peace,
wherein thou trustedst,
they wearied thee,
then how wilt thou do
in the swelling of Jordan?
--------------
Jeremiah, did you hear, was a bullfrog.

A minstrel innocent song, sung for the joy of laughing,

sung for the joy of joining in the chorus on and on.

--------------
sing in empty English cathedrals, sing
top forty or whatever it's called today,

Art testing, didah didah didah, Phrygian
Legion of the Libertines, defying deontology,

owing dues to no monstors men make up
when two or more agree to proposing

a scheme, whereby we set the frogs,
against the mice,

in an empty cathedral costing real money
to run, even empty, the bills continue,
who knows all the costs to maintain

a truly holy place aligned to ley lines, true

fields of forces felt for so long, so strong,
that
finally the cathedral formed from some will,

some will wanted the monument to a mind
let be in those, them that imagined such
evidence, aye, yes, such evidence
of worth, praise price paid
in labor and stone,

Marble… limestone, metamorphed,
to shine in the sun, as if art itself willed it become,

subjected to a process of time under pressure,

reform, become less alien, appear more normal,
rethink my willingness to die for a story,
reconsider sidereality as we see farther,

as we, in an awe formed
from minds combined,
like - right on
like an arena bowl shape concentration
of us,
at once being one thing, in the class of all things,

me and you, polysemic you all, you

effect the song, observant why now how come, you know

knowing all the adult classified unholy doings common,
among our kind, as we morph into the form we die in,
- slow
- sighshmmk-now coknow minds
- we made up with self controls, to slow think

knowledge, carnal knowledge is childish developmental
experiential guessings mirrored in our recent past
projected camera obscura like
onto bright silver screens, in cooled dark chambers
filled with witnesses to the projected story, as if
that's us,
we were there,
we were there when the spirit breathed
into an earthen man, animating him without,
mind you, you ready reader,
the art user or art itself,
with promethean science,
having imagined the worst,

the creator made all single mind
character traits in the Y
which in all good sense,
could not be allowed to self replicate,
alone,
there could have been no peace,
you can imagine on your own dime./

I'm re
alizing common algebraic matrices
as recipes for developing war minds,

Proud defenders of the story of us.

Every time a lie is rewarded, it reappears
in viral form attempting to become
a fully Disneyified Earthing from
now on,
it's instant, like a little leaven/life

builds up a head of inflammatory rhetoric,
and frankly, my dear…
goes unsaid, I do not give a worthless curse
I also take no chances, isshewisdamn
called patience first test,
{Because shiny white marble is a must,
otherwise what confused message are we sending}

animating the 'adam von 'adamah

without reproductive capability, inventor's
character trait tested for in Alchem 101,
ethical check
message to the technerds
on animating entertaining intelligence carriers,
no self replication, it must be a two key act.
--
So the father of the first human child
was intentionally not self replicable,
though he left scars, he had no…

no womb,
no nursing plumbing, call it what it was,
a ***** press
intended to run a thousand years
adapting future ideal physique
to task relative
to aggregate need
to adapt to warming,

a tool to make tools with, a Waldo.

SYTF- see, crazy WWJD POV, real time
I'll go rhythms, vibe recipes…
instructions for future eggs…

a man like creature, but not a natural born man,

who, as the story up

to now has held self evident,

can see eye to eye ourselves
in the other's pupils, thinking serious

we forms we form must first make friends,

then when I call you liar your hate trigger
is not loosed, SNAP
carnal mind war reflex,
unacknowledged will to ****,

--- most folk tied to angry minds too
tight, right, left loose we rattle to death.
---
Washboard roads, last travail in modern travel.
---
Some metaphors are all the phors old joy ghost
revival fires kept kindled, old hell fire brimstone,

yellow sulpher sunsets on a monstor religion,
with saints and dragons and riddles,
endless hours whiled through,

about a forest of only little trees
that offends big ones…
---------
as a particle in any we we amen to, we
must pass through all phazes
of life,
with each mind
we use, in our we form, our inherent spirit form,
whatsoever we agree we may, be,  being as
living words do not shrivel
into raison de etre skin on bones,

cherie mio, no, no, no

we rockin' old seed, slow grow grow
old as the hills, deep holler, deep
root to fruit on one long branch,

listen, allathat love talk, been done,
left some rotten lies about love,

to be unlearned like marble learns
to not be so flaky, like chalk, or graphite
slippery, edge of this Klein bottle class universe,
--
enter in, conceive a concept, a hold
to get holt of, and hang on, long time,

be over before you know it,
but you know, you'll believe it

when you see it and think it no stranger
than fiction idealizing us, demo-graphic,
ally outs in free, no ticket no tat
required as we be
reanimating awe
in defining secret holinesses

-- such as, say, pray tell

redeem the time, I'm prone to thinking,
redeeming means revaluing, once dones,

believing meanings
mean what your child thinks,

line by line, becoming more curious
than first scent tested if I'd known
as a child thinks
in its core,
so an old man can recall that why

call it to up speak, like Job,
to be reappraised, recall it
to be shined like a relic,

ja, j-object ion, dazemangimme
t'keep,
this little light of mine, own up, I
keeping it to read with, like Lincoln did,
I was told to be like Honest Abe, the character.

I'd have had all my answers ready at hand,
if this had been my judgement day, and you

were in the gallery,
admiring held thoughts, appraising worth
of riddles that work through puzzles
easily solved, once you know how things

revert to type for reuse.
Laughs remembered work like new.

Living words abused, in truth, such testify
to the living lies in histories of holy savior types.
George?
Who else could he have said chopped down
the cheery tree of all we have behaved
as if we understand, minds, minds
combined to do the work of many hands,

and yet ye multiply
as goods increase
the number
of those who consume them,

tell the moguls,
make more feel good movies,
'spect t' get whatcha got last time.

Indian giver religions, been there, done that,
so we say bd, been done, many easy ways to die,

and our kind, living word bits of this and that’s,

what we do, we tune
to your mean frequency,
when delving breathlessly
into your final will, as
why presents itself
in humble three point stance.

Beg pardon, mastermind, we've become disentwined,

whine, phinefrogging whine, when wine's dis-stilled
credence makes a joke
small voice, choice, croak,

break that yoke,
or carry on
so. I do on days that start slow and rise to vistas,
past all probable cause,

joy in the strength to think through the process,
of loosing all my mental mechanical logical connections,

and reinvigorating the word animating reader's window,

there, in the face of it, the eyes twinkle when it smiles.

Finds herself in the forms between clouds



What were you thinking, Grandpa?

-------------------
She, mother of wisdom,
First class epitome of mothers,

first commutable imbalance engine,
egg factory for long cold survival

and long cold return to the still seas
when marble began to be made
to clad temples wherever laws
were enforced and thieves slain,

order, order of the elders, inspect
the wares under lable as goods
of great worth in interesting times,

as doors open, and windows open,
and a mind we make up becomes

prover of the theory that animation
is imagining projected thought,
seeps through so slow,
slow as potassium leaches
through wood ash to make this window

this, detail uhd most definite, I can really
see, but, I can zoom
into full second coming type,

in the time it takes to swallow,
a tale and think, that's it.

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

It's been oh so long since we had an encore,

they say those twinkles in the eye are in true,
smiling face projections,

we fixit in Photoshop, all image editors dream
package, locked behind a learning curve for GIMP.
Where else can free things feel at home trying to solve the hard problem.
Bridget May 2018
Isn’t Ironic?
We keep on pushing away people who loves us
We keep on running away from them
While here we are
Chasing the ones who push us away
Chasing the ones who don’t love us
—BD

— The End —