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Jesse stillwater Jul 2018
the Silence became
like an old lesson learned

a broken heart intones
a voiceless song
resonating a refrain of Silent echoes
in a voice that never heard a word
yet spoke so clearly ... lingering
in realms of subtle ambiance

soundless remnants
stacked neatly as
building blocks;  
another brick in a wall,
already too tall to see beyond—
growing like a bunker
without a sense of safe harbor

as the Silence became
time and space,
a stillness beset the melancholy air
as if a world without song
foreboding an unpredictable storm
beget vestiges of broken windfall,
reticent leftovers hushed after a gale

s i l e n t l y

an acorn fallen  — became a mighty Oak

a wind-broke twig — became a weeping willow

a neglected child — became mother nature's son

the Silence became
        a blind prophet —
in its voice held forth
smatterings of truth
and undertones of an unrequited
fool’s hope

the Silence became
a strong, abrupt rush of wind
uttering voiceless exhalations of breath;
a hovering dawn mist
    befallen after a summer storm—
surrounding all in all
bedewed in a feigned peace


... the unabated sounds of silence
become


Jesse Stillwater ... July 20th, 2018
Thank you or reading —
Notes, with all their hopeful Feathers-in-Flight
Are such Numbers we adore, Lovely Bard
All of us, from the Plym and Beyond-in-Sight
Will enjoy the Samples you worked so hard
These are Songs, of course, which your Craft has kept
And Talent your Friend we appreciate
And many times your Auction did beget
The many Hands needed to Promulgate
Soon your Kingdom will know the Voice in the South,
A Youth inspired based on Faith provide
Conscience this River; That Gift from your Mouth
Will the Pilgrim's Ship deliver Far and Wide.
Forgive me, please, for too much Flowers in May
On my Part I promote and Hope for your Day.
#harrietjonesmus
The Day...
...huff, huff, ...huff
breathe
Not one but many,
downed
twenty-two a numbered set
Push!
break, reset, align...
frost, huff,
Great God of Light reveals our Glory!
breathing...breathing
Field of pain, torn, exhausted,
sweat, rain, mist, colder
as grass-stained; the warrior's drobe.

Situate,
whistle! -stop!
Realign,
Randint, paired, matched to offset...
feign, move
'Eleven-by-Eleven,' storied beget
tension

Forty-Five!
Eighteen!
Okemah!

Rush...

In the fields herds collide,
as Chaos, Eros, Geron, Adonai,
War portends a losing side?
The cheering throngs cast coronae...


Eleven steers to sacrifice,
go they do to God.
The ritual structure to suffice,
Violent nature absorbed by sod.


BULL
The origin of football is Sparta. The Game of The Sun. Contact was only allowed when in pursuit of the ball or upon players with ball in hand. You threw the ball at the sun and any player who caught it could run it downfield. All forms of contact to get the ball were allowed including eye-gouging, biting, bone-breaking or even killing. See Justinian's Trogus.
Lewis Hyden Dec 2018
The end of Second Summer's day
When rain and snow have ceased to be
Will see the end of our delay
And mark the death of our decree.

Elsewhere the despondent souls
Of smoke-stacks rise up from the coals...


As plastic melts beneath the glare
And long the Dream was dashed ashore,
Then will smog-clouds light the air
And cast the fires across the moor.

... Then, far beyond, the wand'ring mirth
Will strike the land, and scorch the Earth...


Until the sky is raised in flame
We'll walk the trail of frail regrets,
And once the world glows hot with shame
Shame will then our end beget.

... And so our doing will blaze the sky
In MMXXVII
.
A poem about global warming.
#29 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.

© Lewis Hyden, 2018
Adilson Smith Aug 2016
Boy meets girl.
Boy is hooked.
Boy neglects his sports and books.

Girl meets boy.
Girl is smitten.
Girl leaves the house without permission.  

Boy likes girl!
Girl likes boy!
Both beget untinctured joy.

Then girl annoys boy,
And boy ignores girl,
And slowly their love begins to unfurl.

Boy grates girl,
Girl leaves boy.
One finds the other too hard to enjoy.

Girl gets better,
Boy stays lesser.
Boy thought girl would stay forever.
Outside Words Oct 2018
A delicate sound trickles into my ear
A tantalizing voice from a mouth so fair
Her lips move as she brushes back her hair
And moonlight beams into my dreams

She eases me with her soothing scent
With little laughs between words,
Whispering softly in unison with birds
That sing and cheer as dawn draws near

The graceful woman I am bound to
Greets me with a smile while I sleep
And tells me that she is mine to keep
After the sun has set and twilight beget

Her tender touch is all I need
As I hopelessly cling to my fantasy
And indulge an invisible ecstasy
Until I awaken and my love is taken

© Outside Words
Your Clouds, judged be it pickled or disdain
Have mostly trained your canaries to think
Whether to ruffle more Feathers; Then feign
Those Truest Notes dipped; And begroom your Mink
For who could solve what your Tampered Mind spies
Then translates such Harvest for a Desert
To Good Sense cheer; From Truth becomes a Lie
With Random Calls ring your Body to advert
And whilst you do, any Cause to forget
Those Taped Pioneers who endured your Phase
Pray for your Interview; And chance to beget
Which Startled Sweets was the Sweetest at base.
Yet still Occupied to that Video owned
Belittle what Possum's Cry now reknowned.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
At the money table, Cain and Abel, Abraham and Isaac,

And neither one cares how you’ll pay as long as it is not a check,

Brassy appendages obversely curl to abruptly angular truncated legs-upon-his-lek,

And the proof of who he represents hangs weightily about his Plouton neck,

See the cotton-wafer stacks shuffled as bricks in rows to the translucent deck,

The waiver now giving its woe whence once wished-for upon the Great Molech?

Mr. crooked hook-nose at his compose will take on any bet,

As Sheol will have it, many lament, being in his debt,

A Canaan cursed and tribal descendant, the relative of Set.

For with misery and suffering well you get what you beget!
A "lek," is a Phoenician word for a table at which a collector stands. Like a modern-day podium...but more than a collector, an administrator for god as the Egyptians saw it.
It's amazing
there are times
we're able to get
angry,
frustrated
and very upset
With someone
we care for
that we love so much
Protect them
and shelter
so no one could touch
Do not let hurt or pain
think of touching her veins
'Cause those times
are now gone
and forever have changed

And yet,
here we stand
us both acting like this
We are trapped in a story
with chapters I missed
These pains in my brain
aren't from words you have spit
I'm confused;
I'm insane
or some dumb ****** up ****
Our love is so strong
There's no way it could break
We'll get through ups and downs
All that's thrown
we could take
Totally unprepared
for a ninja attack
That one spy snuck inside
Did it behind our backs
Parasitic invasion
Dug into our brains
Paranoia, delusion
took over the reigns

No communicating
No more talking either
Instead, playing games
As if that would be easier
When able to see
the error in our ways
The path already set
Seeming too hard to change
The Titanic proportions
Coursed for tragedy
Listen to the band play
That's how it had to be

A defensive stance taken
yet also aggressive
All doors been replaced with
high walls
We're left guessing
What each other wants
As if we took the time
'Cause your thoughts
were on you
And my thoughts
only mine
Much time since we flew
Now a submarine diving
Deep down I love you
And for now we're surviving

Turn a leaf that is new
Other side
a blank slate
I know what not to do
It's argue or debate
From now on I will listen
to you when you speak
Truly see your position
Is something not weak
Love is so many things
Caring, trust, and respect
Offer you all of these
Give to you
Hope to get
I will meet you half-way
There'll be times
I give more
Not a competition
So, no need
to keep score
To compete in this game
(for lack of better word)
If one 'wins'
nothing's gained
Outcome is
quite absurd
So together; a 'team'
Both of us
The same side
Make reality dreams
All it takes
is to try

I am back to my senses
A moment to think
There's the cost
and "expenses"
Not careful,
Could sink
It takes effort and work;
Can't just coast and slide by
Lawn needs water to grow
Otherwise, it will die
Tend your lawn
Plant the seeds
that will set hearty roots
And beget fortitude
Not stand off and aloof
If you have love that's real
Sacrifice still be made
But don't let anger steal
True love's worth being saved
Written: November 24, 2018

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic tetrameter format]
DP Schott Jan 19
Music Beget Joy
And
Joy Beget Love.

Revel In The Music,
While Dancing Amidst The Joy In Your Soul.

Clinching Love Most Of All
Never Consigning it to oblivion.

For Love... Is...Life.
O world,
that we live in,
I know of where you were beget,
and of whom your were bourne by

O world
that we will live in,
I know of where you will be beget,
and of whom you will be bourne by

For you, O world,
were bequeathed
by the minds of those passed,

Just as you, O world
will be bequeathed
by the minds of us present
Begun with an inviting smile,
Followed by hand holding
and one single amazing kiss,
opening the very depths
of passions bliss.

Passions that lasted for
weeks, day and night,
intensely ethereal.
Consumed and blissfully
spent in love never felt
before or since,

Marriage and two beautiful
children, house with picket
fence, all beget with just one
single awe-inspiring kiss.

We stand now in Court,
bitter and numb, you get
the house, I get to keep
paying the mortgage.

As loving parents we agree
to share custody of our kids.
While each one of us struggles
to survive the crushing aftermath
of all this.

Hard to imagine now that
all these flames of love and
pain were ignited with but
a simple smile and a single
amazing kiss.
Life and Relationships
are complicated. Do we
fall in love or does love
fall on us? Some of both
it seems.
A man built a
stone wall in
a place which
was not his to                              
reside. It was
torn down ‘til
he killed the
other person,

  Therefore a council, the ‘Council of the Commons,’ was called to order. It was from this foundation that early man found truth in matters through debate. It was a way of reckoning with problems and resolving disputes and contained three members; a king, a judge and their god -who came before the shrill cries and lamentations that day to hear the case of the stonemason. It was gathered at the temple of the god.

Lugal; “In what is good and what is just, I imagine a verdict that treats the people as wholesome; is just.”

Dekōōd; “For you believe, as all rulers do, that justice leaves are but for the few, the man who acts can never do, a thing unjust for his reward is due, but in this you err, unlike in battle, for people humanely; cannot be treated as cattle.”

Dinĝir; “And what of me? What my concern? What offering more, than blood-on-earth; in turn?”

Lugal; “We are not here in glory nor in battle but save for the prayers of these people; our chattel.”

Dekōōd; “I am not here for you, nor here for thus, nor daimones due, I am the judge, and adjudicate, I must! No matter solemn, or ill or gravely hearted, to sufferers who mourn, a dearly departed. If laws were broken, so have I been called, as one of three who judges, judges all, and so be it, until a time, that such a thing as rule, has ceased to rhyme, and man has ended, for all time!”

Dinĝir; “Very well, very well indeed, their incense is pleasing, their temple cleaned, their prayers heard, devices expected and meat and porridge and genuflective, these subjects are a thrill to me, go forward council, you two of three. I shall not make my move as much, until you humans, consider such, but once you pass a judgment on, this humble man of stone and brawn, just say the verdict and I will act, as Dekōōd has judged him, for his attack.”

Lugal; “Quiet now! Hush all, be quiet, lest I consider, your shrills, a riot, and put you down, for I decree, over all that you know, and all that you see, a final arbiter, of the law, I am your King; the king of all!”

Dekōōd; “And I your judge, your voice of reason, who discerns the meanings, the acts and treasons and takes the place of him that died and points thy finger and convicts those that lied!”

Dinĝir; “Mmmpfh, crunch, gargle, ummped, mmmpfh…pig! …and it’s roasted well…mmmpfh, smack.”

Dekōōd; “Come before me, bring that stonemason, and the family come forward, come quickly, quickly hasten, and the accusers tell, your tale of woe, and I’ll assign his character, if it is low.”


“I am wife, was wife to he, the man a farmer, and husband to me,
These here, his children, all eight of thee, and that land there, was given to us, you see,


By that great king, Oh Lugal, it is I, and he was a lieutenant, in the wars of honor, on your side,

Which beget you your kingdom, thus you granted these lands to him, whom did, his duty,

And that monster, the mason, his wall upon them doth rent away, -their beauty,

After our reproach, he did slay my hus-band, his blood now spilt, and washed upon, our land.”

Dekōōd; “Come before me now stonemason, show me your face, over there, yes, that’s your place, stand at that podium and tell us now, give us your case, but remember how well you plead, shall determine, your fates."

“I may have built my wall as such, plans offset by hills that roll but I did nothing wrong except to error,

I did not commit this claimed terror, her husband attacked me before we could reason and that was it.”

Dekōōd; “You call that eloquence? Well then, eye for an eye, tear this man apart, until he has died, and as he lie dying, Diĝir, it’s your turn, devour your portion, for the rest, we shall burn!”

Lugal; “For I am Basileos!”
Dekōōd; “For I am Basilicas!”
Dinĝir; “For I am Basiliskus!”

“The king, a judge, your god; the three,

…and this, as such, is our, decree!”
Sumerian; Lugal means King, Dekood means Judge, Digir means God.
bound, dark birds cannot speak
or move, but are mated together,
wounded, yet glowing still within;
memory finds forgiveness, child,
in each cherished haven lost

only the blessed have been lovers,
without someone to listen, unheard,
real shelter and warmth, yet ungiven;
relentless endings and losses beget
new voices rich in our mourning
For all that beauty barely complete
And those feelings excessively discreet
For that temperament seemingly basic
A smile? Oh what dearth and defeat!
For these and all those things that aren't
I will love 100%

The figure I scarcely behold
The name too old to be told
The dimples create a tempting fold
From which he must be controlled
But why am I moved? Heaven sent!
I will love 100%

Heart pounding ever fast
Eyes down! All shame is cast
Must I love or must I forget
I will destroy and then beget
Then when all my guilt is spent
I will love 100%
Joseph Zenieh Aug 2018
NO  PLACE  FOR  THE  WEAK
My Lord, is this the world for which Your Son has died?
I see myself quite lost among the wasted crowd
which men beget and throw in the thronged streets
to go towards an abyss of most dreadful sights.

Men walk along the streets in such a way
that shows they are quite prompt to fight and slay.
They show quite ruthless hearts in their vile eyes
that can shed blood just for some empty praise.

There is no place for those who are humane.
They are accused of girlish styles and brain,
and should greet first to avoid frowning looks
if not, a word when answered brings attacks.

If weak, you find no place for you to go.
All places are for those who can their power show.
You have that trait, you walk with scornful pride.
If not, your place is just the grave where you can hide.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
____________
Onoma Oct 2018
my illusions

create gods...

which beget gods.

they keep steeling

one another's thunder.

never was there such

bold-faced entitlement.

silvery sworded severances

charge the air...hand to

hand clashes trying to

advance on cloudy territory.

it's too electric, and appetites

too whet...illusion's gonna

go.

i/they can taste it.
I want to kiss the moon eyes closed, lips wet.
With hands divine, I want to touch the rose.
Then, women chaste and kind in tears beget.
And finally, the greatest poem compose.
For when I see the sun, my nights which're cold,
I suffer much the truth I'm of  love bare.
Then, in the glass I sad my face behold
That does not know the touch of hands that care.
Yes, why the man in looks a  garden ****
For him the sadness of the not just eyes
If everyone when cut, red bleeds indeed.
    A rosy word is love but then not kind
    To me as if I were of feelings blind.
Axion Prelude Sep 2018
your silent plight begets silent nights
the inaudible whispers haunt us in daunting hollows
insalubrious fervor beseeches thy name
forlorn and lost among creeping doubt
guilt holding refrain from calling to any such fate

with second guess casts shame on second nature
innate profundity loses meaning with time
but all that's known is all that can be
tangible efforts get lost in the shadow of dissonance

my body resonates with such reeling efficacy
empathy goes unheard but your tone still sings truth
such sweetness lost to empty promise reigns defeat and pain
my silent nights beget silent strife
Akshiv Nov 2018
Authenticate, Assauge, Attest
We never let it rest.
Berate Beget defeat
Yet does one not follow like sheep?
  Cycles of Servile Sentiment,
Does one Debate, Detest?

Endure, Endow till End
Never to Negate; its best

Break
this chain — its best
To learn to be your best,
It’s best
untitled (vs. imperialism + its idyllic head, which is only idolic, cult of personality)


The tug of war between our better, worser angels, voices in our heads that aren't,
an aspect of sociological schizophrenia that Westerners were all programmed with
from birth on, tears at us as it was meant to, for the divided fall to ebony, ivory,
the black and white supremacies, conquering in perfect harmony, neigh, perfect war,
which can only beget more, thus the global unending unnecessary war against all life
only increases, as the irrelevant pieces are discarded ever more, for more, now, 13000
kids a day die of lack of potable water, hunger, while the 130 running for manager-
in-chief of the world's retail store, the united **** of assassins, won't mention it
once, what the real left always fought to end.  Like genocide, remember when it was
commonly understood if you knew about it and weren't fighting it you were a genocider?
Just last year Coates on the Hayes show said, "...if you think whites shouldn't be
genocided you're a racist...", a song of economic sukkkcess by ebony over ivory for
them and the republican conspiracy, for, the only other things, besides neutering of
newborns, assassinating infants in cribs, anatomical destruction and mass-****** of
kids, teens, that they have enforcing their 35 % ruling the 65 % are all the inter-
locking, laced economic systems based on scarcity instead of nature's abundance,
ever increasing the supposed garnering of ever more short-term delusional pleasures,
profits and powers, in ever more cyclical, centralizing patterns that dictate
astronomically larger real deficits over the long-term, in a word, Earth-******,
the central organizing theme of global defacto-slavery of all by the non-renewable fuel
industrial complexes, the real left vexes with our unifying song of liberation from
and abolishing of fossil fuel use, keeping it all in the ground, which is where they
pound the real (non-socialist) greens.  Why don't our hands demand "...We(e),..." climb,
our streching demand we reach only more over time, our lungs only more wind under an
only greater wingspan over time, instead of the opposite?  "...We(e),..." need to
turn 360 degrees around, back to the evolution and the future humanity will only
have if you, illimitable potential, indivisible as life, leave no footprints that
follow none, which will echo forever on, in all ways, always.  Viva la Evolucion.
My twig  of poetree that inspired this one   :)  

Nature's Balanced Path, Giving Back To Abundance, Furthers

Betwixt our better and worser ..., voices in our heads
That aren't, nor curser, for our inner candle's always lite
So we don't curse the darkness, weeded, bring forth
From the Earth more, demanded by our roots, feet, hands, score.   reality
Come on people it’s time to celebrate!
Today is the day when Jesus became a bunny and laid chocolate eggs.
Everybody get together.

Every Christian on the birthday lie.
Eating the eggs that fell from the sky.

Come to the alter.
Bring a ****** flower.
Impregnated by the spring sun.
When we see him again,
They will bring their children.

We hunt for dyed red eggs from the alter!
We toast to the birthday of the fertile mother!
It’s time to celebrate! Come on let’s celebrate!

Pull Jesus out of an egg. This way I will remember I’ll never die.
The Queen smiles from behind his face. The bunnies have got you hunting for a lie.
Chocolate bunnies mating in the spring sun,
Remembering the death of the Queen’s son.

She ascended and became the moon. Her husband, the sun, impregnated her, with rays of light.

She descended in an egg, touched the water, and hatched out all renewed, the Queen of all the clouds.
She beget a son, the first chocolate bunny.
She submerged all the bunnies in the blood of the cocoa bean, so they look desirable.
They are all hiding. Time to go hunting. Let’s hunt them in celebration.
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