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Julian Jul 2016
Fragile egg-shell mind on dawn’s highway bleeding the segue between times traversed only in momentary dreams or in enduring excursions

We drag our droll and quaint 60s baggage like the luggage of a safari made of concrete girding a cavernous expanse of unheralded ground

With our ears oriented to the floor, we leap out of body never to deplore….never to ignore….never to miss the blue bus of our drafted imaginations, so carefully culled from brash elitism

I trounce the intervening time between being friendless and an ironic end, and an irenic comrade becoming the dearest amazed but always aplomb friend

We simper in our glorious traversal, and though bedraggled through an ornamented cavern we linger just long enough to be celebrated

Then a blues riff emanates from a vapid bar, and finally someone heralds my exhumed memory still rusty with the pavement of encased concrete on an empty or full tomb

So I wander in my mind to that roughshod Paris glassy tincture a romanticized gild of proper sensibility crafted in the tongues of lizards emulating the tongues of serpentine Anglicans

As the power of love transcends the love of power, both are afforded serendipitously upon the stately occasion of a fitful revolt where heads literally rolled and deaths still unfurl from the slippage of a violent malevolent eternity, crafting a new creative way to expedite the smite of preventable scourge

So, I see your picaresque side and your wide-eyed love for a listless ship anointed of a crystal blip just detectable long enough on RADAR to become the statistic to crack the slim WHIP

No wigs are needed at this formality, no figs grow from trees forty-five years buried and almost a full month unsung

Pitiable cretins of an invented insanity, they scoff at my ravenous and portentous heart for its excess and for aligning with an upstart verging on only a specious insanity

Why in all humanity could a month be mustered with every defense of history and yet for it to be so widely flouted as a risible exercise in futility

The irony that the artistic glamor of a past vogue becoming a revival that is often toked only to one song but never to the memorial of great cavernous and commodious imaginations, staggers with dismay where otherwise the mayday would be a disaster but still a great day

Then I look at a triggered-fingered omen of a death so ominous yet so brazenly confronted as the ambassadors of time provide plaudits to a fearless martyrdom

Why such a sad spate, why such a stringent but malevolent fate a malediction on a family whose crest is not crestfallen like rolling waves but ornamented with gravity impounding its own weight

A fugacious tomb, an eternal flame, a swan song announcing an independent authority on a prescient demise mashed and deprived

A single shot rippling through the broadened space between clasped eternity and a histrionic disgrace as a psychological confederate pays lip service to a reiterative applause

A cousin hardly American in a defected record of incendiary plumes of a hoarse hatred of waxen discs and flying discs alike,  climbs out of a bonfire mounted purely out of vindictive spite

Then upon a great white buffalo a wrapped package of Californian love before California ever alighted like something beyond an avaricious dove, saw a rocky park and a hearth of illuminated darkness the singular spark

Captain Morgan knows the jackknife applause of a botched deal morphing into a disbelieved spiel. A shibboleth of enormous mystical weight crashing down from an ethereal abode and heaven heavily saddened cannot hardly appeal

Then a loving spoonful of crystal blue persuasion led me to Ethel’s regimented keepsake and for once in my life nobility and I became a grateful waif. But temerity laughed, splintered spacecraft, and the wooden paws of a bearish applause led to resurgent clarity

Blinking stars shattered by knighted and raw applause punctured the liberated might of a sentient hortatory savior grasped by the internecine wrench of a waxen time

An indie track slides by unnoticed in an aleatory time, and the threadbare whine of centuries of lament becomes a dastardly barn set ablaze with the fury of ancients and the scurry of faineant patents

Perfidy slides in recess, and in gentle forbearance the winged angel lingers like a halo on conifer and spring above a remedial ring

I dial frisky celerity tingling the dangling claws of a raven’s screed and in plunder of all history’s pilfer secrets I eagerly weave a tapestry Indiana Jones himself would be proud to watch

Not the riotous ruin of a mystery tour of verdure crippled by genocide but overcome by the revived life of raised rain razing the moments of indelible pain

But the culmination of a proffered time taken at its word for its every careened bird, for its every brazen gird. The manger of proctored stars calls us home tonight and home forever. Life in quaked timorous stumbles suddenly no longer so fitfully absurd.

The quixotic plundered of pirates and emperors in direct emulation of some crooned pastiche of whittled integrity, surges above any encased blurb and any vain testament to a pyramid rigid in destiny and ragged in desultory and sturdy sincerity

Multiplying the ineffable by the division of arable divorced from edible is too creative to be eaten as pabulum when sparks curdle flickered moonlight crimson and that become golden only to the last laugh of ennobled ragamuffins

Frankly the desert of melliferous gorillas abetting the lark of a heavily vetted camarilla engaged in the sinecure of a rigged wall on a main street to block the tall from the lame bleat. Stocks grazed, costs engaged on a littoral beach at the end of a Bossy promenade

This prayer is a cutthroat collapse of a merry spare, a ribbed ****** waiting to plunge into the antithesis of female despair, but sincere in its restraint that vixens courted in love aren’t courted in litigation of a wagered dare

Ambulances chase Deloreans through the desolate moon-stricken skies of a time agape with fleets of phantasmagoria on a Cliffside too wise to ever mince words or excise cries

Skulking the red-teared caverns of entombed films and lampooned tinctures on a passion vetted only for certain and utter deracinated disguise, I wallop with winged men in a single soul Armed to the Teeth with inveterate tithes to eternal internments of poached and endangered gazettes

As growth older in wizened skin bets on epithets rather than epitaphs for rinsed peace and triumphant clefts we leap above in orbit of only the bellowing nether of blown tolls and untold souls aggregating the esoteric grasp of Alexandrian tomes

The denumeration of certainty is a carousel of wonder, a splurge of time ripped asunder with majesties of paparazzi scuttled impacts a throttled iniquity of regalia’s indicted blunder frenchified but still clean with inestimable sheens

With twenty-five dollars, a dime an assist and a nickeled reiteration of currency already so personable it is divine and sublime in crazed desist I watch the embroiled natives clash in denatured violence with the warriors of a crossed repast hearkening to an old land much of ire but too much of grandstand to ultimately last

Itching for a holy field husk of peerless ties listed as rumpus and beer, a two-packed smoked by bludgeoned blokes careless in irascible sputters of a muffled doom, a Vegan becomes the author of too many sacrosanct homilies becoming defiled witchcraft brooms dead on arrival too many lionized tombs

In plaudits and the scause of an amplified “what if?” of an olfactory nightmare of petrified fog of effluvium bogged in Wade and in heat it is always clogged, sinewy libations of toasted preemptive revenge become a powerballed hog

A castle in the sky founded on Franklin but scourged of wineskins brimming with a distilled time, a swift repartee becomes the whispered ladder of saints blather becoming not rather other than a Dan Rather spatter

A door breeched by a broached inconvenience of amphigory beyond common reach, I clamber excess and whisk the lingered love into destiny beyond any word other than a beseeched preach of nothing tired but everything inspired of noble love with abundance often to teach

Fireworks of turned tides of fallow tithes to aliens beyond any conceivable bribe the bushwhacker writhes but survives Stayin' Alive without even a hint of garbled jive a 27th floor glass elevator is quite a resplendent ride

Wellsprings knowing radical rolled tides of errant dice also themselves guilty of confessional tithes to the monolith of avarice at the nooked cranny of an evaporated time we whine as the police sting the album rained with songs too lugubrious to sing but in their elegy every lonely heart has a propinquity phone of souled resonance ring

Iterative mastery of a mathematics of love, loss decay and the dross of a dental Occidental floss, the sweep of screened queues become questions of inestimable importance to foreign dues on A Horse With No Name but so consumed with fumes

A fright occultist Thriller prowls in a waylaying daylight, masquerading an innocent confection for a rescued triage of a dawn stabbed with knives in our last dying days of trembled plight

He resurrects only the wraiths of detest, squinted at by the putrefaction of summoned cardiac arrest and littered with bullets that somehow can penetrate even impregnable bullet proof vests the wrapped carcass of the mummified husk of ready despair offers itself a ghoulish and raspy prayer

Synchronized in a low roaring swathe of rollercoasters too immersive to ride, the terpsichorean obscurantism of deliberately shattered fragments becoming blurbs dismissed with hijacked deride the carnival of a summer sun becomes the ocean of limitless love becoming endless fun

We forget the drawl of the droll old tales that haunt like specters in the closet and beneath the bedridden valetudinarian of an effrontery of shackled fright, we sprawl the innumerable caverns of prophetic insight afforded by the pantheon of history enter stage left, depart stage right

And with their insight I write and write, I grasp the tusk of democracy and wage an insurrection against the doubt of plodding limitations in otherwise immaculate sight

*** and tyrannosaurus rex, of litigable offenses leading to pardonable arrests, the gated entryway of a poetic splurge leads to the demiurge of a demotic enlightenment and suddenly the frank becomes the frazzled retirement and that haunting hounding bunny transmogrified by a shattered eye averts the car crash that careens ponderous engines out of limitless twilight blue skies.

Diamond lightning in pristine skies escorts the telegraphic totems of riddled modems from distant forbearance to nescient ultimatum and suddenly all venerable personages converge on a teeming scene of a union unified by a universal dream. To become everything and yet nothing and out of light and darkness to become a beatific beam
Nishu Mathur Feb 2017
Vanilla vowels
and creamy colored consonants

Naughty or nutty nouns
of almonds, apples, apricots

Aphrodisiac adjectives
and very berry adverbs

Passion fruit  phrases
pirouette like peaches in thought

A pomegranate patter
that pronounces a pronoun

Or perhaps in veiled vines
velvet verbs purr

Wondrously whipped
words of love

Salacious sentences  
with strawberry stirred

A mellowed musk melon
of a metaphor

A salubrious simile
sits like a sapote crown

Amorous alliterative adventures  
with romance and raisins

An ooh la la of orange oomph
onomatopoeic sounds

An orchard of the alphabets
in a fruity potpourri of speech

A bearish pearish play and
plum pun on words

The language of love
written with love

In this hash mash
bonhomie
Valentine verse
Joel M Frye Jan 2011
Graying, overweight,
powerful bearish
body a-crumble from
years of bullwork.

Didn't matter what
the day job was
when the stage was mine
four nights a week.
Now the voice cracks,
and crowds giggle or
avert their eyes
when it blows up.


There was a time when
whatever I put my mind
or body to, got done.


I got a standing O from an orchestra
and carried a waterbed up 3 flights of stairs.

This morning, I put word to byte
because it's one of the few things
I do better now than then.
We all have our reasons which reason knows not.
1/31/2011 JMF
~for Cathy Leff, curator~


no bugler blaring ‘pay attention’ to me,
no emergent bad news bearish telephone cell call of an absurd tonal,
no alarm clock retaliating agin a humans daily defying double-slap,
no young children sneaking in, with a guard dog in accompaniment,
   joy-ending a deep parental sleep from the exhaustion they induced

but as if shot, the humans burst into alertness,
from prone to moan, they instantly revert, becoming **** Erectus,
gasping from shock troop dreams, and a chest-pounding message,
a whisper growing, an ever increasing crescendo, an unnatural law,

an unsullied foot-stomping battle cry that self-terrorizes, undeniable:

write me, your poem, write me now!

ah, it must be 5:00 am...
Twinkle Jul 2014
Somewhere inside of you
There is a small boy too

A boy who wants to be loved
A boy who wants his hair to be ruffled
Who lost his childhood
Only remembers his struggle

A boy whose eyes still hold
Dreams that he once cherished
Dreams that help him soar
Above his agony so un-bearish

He held on to that piece of sanity
Hoping his dreams would soon become a reality
Before long, the world and its wisdom came knocking on his door
Woke him out of his slumber
Shattered his tower and covered in fear!

So he now hides behind, doors made of steel
Reinforced with ideas that he's built his reserve
He doesn't need your love
He doesn't need your smile
You see his attitude is enough to suffice.

But catch him when he's down and defenseless
And you'll see the glimpse of a child so helpless
Who is longing and yearning to be accepted by you
With arms stretched out simply crying silent tears
One who'll never tell you his worst fears.

It takes that kind of woman to see through his facade
The strong walls of his towers are crumbling again
But he fears this loss, his control over his sanity
Its not long before, his succumbs to his frailty.
This poem is for all the men out there, many misunderstood, many putting up a facade, hiding behind steel walls, afraid to let go and love!
Robert Kralapp Feb 2012
You see her on these windy
sun-shot mornings,
walking under yellow trees.
You see her on the sidewalk
in her dull pink jacket,
knit cap the color of burgundy.
Her red-tipped cane swings wide
again and again. She moves with
a bearish shuffle step among
the orange leaves in her path -
listens to the hidden world.
And if you meet her face to face,
though she does this less often
than before, she will ask:
Do I know you? Sure,
I know you from somewhere.
PJ Poesy Apr 2016
Grubby am I to fanciful passersby
Sulky eye can't meet such sultry treat
For worn out shoes upon my feet
Divide us in classes; meek versus neat

Yet as stripped down across over town
Wherein tall grasses lay bare *****
Lies chance for me in barren passes
Just a prance away to lured trespasses

And in this sin I gladly engage
Deception tears off its coverings
For once men naked in their rage
Comes natural instinctive brothering

So hmm and ha, to you ta-ta
Your wares persuade not my cares
For shares of what not one wear
Shall decicide how lust shall fare

There you have it, there it is
What has been mine, has been his
When stripped down to naked truth
All men bear bearish brute
A free portrait! Imagine that,
At no charge this troglodyte
Decided that I deserved a rendition in pulsing crimson, me!
He effortlessly sliced the curve of my face,
And then holding true to brute form,
Let his fists do the rest of the painting.
In a breath’s thought I fought the idea
That this strong browed man was a fan of
Yves klein, but then he caringly guided my sight
Floor-bound and I noticed that he was a
Monochromatic *******.

Now, I wasn’t expecting Monet,
But in truth the elegance of the lazy red river
Careening down my cheek and neck got my hopes up.

And then further was impressed by his liberalness
With bottomless black crimson
Where he’d only previously flirt with young pinot noir
As he took a break to wash and massage his stained hands
I clutched at the hope that perhaps he was done with the
Onslaught with such blunt tools,
As such methods could ruin the whole piece
Unfortunately, he returned
And his care for each swipe was becoming more

More impassioned, but less precise,
I asked if he perhaps needed a second break?
Perhaps I could assist him,
I wanted to give it a try myself, but my hands were
Tied.

In vain,
I tried to tell him that,
Perhaps,
His bearish skills and appearance,
Would be better suited to a life of leather, whips, and Oedipus Complexes,
But his response was,
Cutting.

You should never laugh at an artist
Especially the bad ones
Because then their work some how finds a way to get worse


I asked if he’d learned how to work from his father,
And whether his father had worked him in any
Other
Manner, and that’s when I became dizzy
I think.
Apparently struck a nerve.
Ruhee Jul 2019
Reddish Lips
Bearish Cheeks
Brownish Eyes
Lavish Hair
Childish Look
Stylish Walk
Strongish Girl
She Is.


Fathima Ruhee
Former CIA Director
John Brennan scathing headlines
Washington Post op-ed sharply
published critical accusations

muted excoriation slams
Commander in Chief
volcanic blatant pathological lying
spews like lava his American

foreign policy boilerplate brazenly
bastardizes by banditry blueprint,
balefully balkanizing beautiful bracketed
booming brady bunch brand,

bests best-buy buffer braking balanced
bastion, bolstered beloved benighted
bequeathed bicameral bipartisan bliss,
Baptizing bacchanalian buffoonish bombast,

betokening bobble-headed Bumstead,
barmy bartered bride bravado, bizarrely
brash brassiness, blindsiding behavior,
beetlebrowed bonehead, bafflingly baldfaced,

bankrupting, blithely bollixing,
bombastically belittling, badmouthing,
banally blasting, banana-boat baseless,
bearish blandishments, beastly boastful

boosterism, bellicosely boorish, bug-eyed,
bighearted, bigoted blathering breeding
blunderbuss bloopers, bewildering
bloodletting bellyache blight,

brazenly being bandying bellwether,
blitzing bourgeoisie balderdash,
balking but beaming barbaric
berserk ballyhoo backbiting,

backslapping backstabbing
blacklisting bromides,
besetting basic bestowed blooming,
Bobbitizing bedeviling beneficial
bulwark bereft badinage, ballistically ballooning
betrayal birthing bedlam.
To aerate, babble and procrastinate
decluttering man cave *******
welcoming this temperate
(Billy me) idle March thirtieth
tooth house sand nineteen

eventually to accomplish
sorting thru lifetime
worth miscellaneous
papered material former
rainforest, I banish

to the shredder repurposing
once upon a time
stately majestic humongous
dignified cub billed bearish,
yet stern silent taskmasters

razed forest mongers left blemish -
fueling the roaring engines
of western civilization
paper products service
material world feeding bookish

appetite, sans (ironic
knotty twist) printed
hot off the press bulletins,
bestsellers inform boyish
wordsmith, how vast

treeless tracts hasten
global abomination, chopping
degradation, lamentation... brownish
blotches encompass inert naked,
torchered, and zapped

originally pristine realms
overrun by sawyers brutish
Paul Bunyanesque (sporting
as good) fellas carved
cleared, and cropped enormous

swaths back when bullish
intruders displaced indigenous
peoples crowing manifest destiny
as mantra to appease expansionist
predilection frenzied cultish

zero sum game to annex
unbroken wilderness promulgating
feverish gold rush to demolish
wantonly scorching Earth,

whereby present day burgeoning
population irrevocably establish
ruination ushering ominous augury
permeating mine mortal mutterings.

— The End —