"benchmark" poems
Broken highways in the night
have allways been the benchmark of my travels
the count of the hordes of empty eyes
climbs as the tally of things iv abandon on the way is forrgotten
Once i a while it will come to me suddenly
of some small thing
some trinklet that
i prized so much
that some crawling thief made away with
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 11:01 AM UTC
Christian Louboutin Black Nevertheless the price range available at them is sometimes not affordable from the normal working class of people. Christian louboutin wedding Absolutely nothing to get worried about,with the introduction of Christian louboutin available in the market one can get each of the features of the Christian louboutin at attractive discount prices.The Christian louboutin incorporates most of the excellent features of the original brand. Louboutin are identified by the signature tag of a glossy red sole. Louboutin also imitates this red sole tag thus giving an exact look of the original brand. Most of the times, Christian louboutin outlet people are worried about the qualities of such louboutin products.However, someone can go for Christian louboutin UK online shops while making such purchases. Special care is taken in plenty of time of manufacturing those Christian louboutin UK. red bottom heels Factors like the proper inclination of the heel, the quality of the Christian louboutin UK are perfectly taken into account. Thus, Christian Louboutin Outlet one can get the pride of wearing the Christian louboutin UK at a much lower cost. The wide and exciting range of Christian louboutin shoes will surely captivate the hearts of all the fashion trendy people. Someone can look into the online catalogue for different styles and colors. Christian louboutin shoes will surely be a wise decision to make. Christian louboutin sale designs created a benchmark in the world of designer footwear. Christian Louboutin Christian louboutin are worldwide famous for its quality and amazing stylish designs. In today’s generation, people like to experiment with colors and designs. Christian Louboutin SaleThe provision of louboutin, in various colors and an extraordinary offbeat collection of designs, has made Christian louboutin UK popular among the fashionable crowd. red bottom shoes for women Now, one can choose from a wide range of several innovative and inventive varieties of Christian louboutin shoes.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 1:04 AM UTC
Do you have to get high to feel more fly?
Soft *** stoner
I'm more blunt when I'm sober
Excuse me to the real dudes who use ****
I know how it be
But if you only smoke because it's trendy
Right now your life is pending
Because you not downloaded
You buffering
Losing connection
I can't respect it
Your life isn't hectic
You had to use other folks addresses
Just to get public school lessons
Never got a suspension
Detention because you wasn't paying attention
You wasn't throwing pencils
Or raising up dresses
Or erasing the "warm up" messages
Or guessing during benchmark testing
Word I heard you was a nerd
And that's cool
But don't have tape in between 'yo glasses then grow up to gain bad habits
That's backwards
Thought life was all about progress
You have a background which is flawless
But for acceptance
You start making exceptions
I do it for the breathless
And of my God I don't question
Exclamation
To all perpetuation
But hesitation
I don't condone perpetration
Why dissemble on some **** that isn't providential?
Everyone who practically had no choice now want a way out
Little *** kids you didn't even weigh in
How did you find your way in?
That's from real men being pliant
For all you cats who trying
Stop 'yo lying
When I'm around Amateurs come in silence
Like what's a scavenger to a lion?
About time for all of you late bloomers to become compliant
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 8:49 PM UTC
Dear Daughter,
Again you let me down
You didn't meet my expectation
Saw my face in Hall of shame,
Held my head real down
Big disappointment...
Where shall I hide my face?
My Friends topic of the week,
My daughter... your daughter... her daughter
Juicy gossips...
Straight A's, no straight A's
You put me in A total mess
I really felt out of place...
Defense mechanism,
pointing my fingers straight
It was easy to put the blame on you
My ego was big of course,
I denied the fact that...
I set a standard too high...
The benchmark was me
Forced you to compete with perfection
Forgotten the fact that you are you
Never could be me... or anybody else
My achievement, my capabilities were different
and yours were yours alone...
incomparable to me, incomparable to others
Unintentionally, I molded a double
Designed my clone
Created another hall of fame
But I was wrong to play god's role
When he created you,
You were your unique self
a different special individual...
Dear Daughter,
From now on...
I let you be you
Please forgive me for my ignorance,
insensitivity... but trust me
I'd be proud that I am part of you...
and I'd pray to god you'd be successful
your own way.....
With Love,
Mummy...
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
~for SPT~
whose poems transform with lovingness
~~
*distinguishing, extinguishing,
the knowledges to retain,
reuse daily, mightily,
pleasures insights beloved,
honored with the stripes of daily use
then there are,
the knowledges to retrain,
non-removable, rising up from your
edges
of the very fine line
tween
pain and experience
they must Main Street remain,
be thankful for that,
for love regained,
needs the benchmark
of having lived love,
the loss of loss when recalled,
when new gets a turn, reinstalled,
is now twice sweeter*
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
After Amadioha went into sweet nightmares,
he made us to breath through the chest of the sea. from the celestial bodies of the shrine,
We shone our forefather's smile with a mirage,
a little littered mirage spelling words in ellipsis.
these were the rose crumbs tailored in the sand castle of our glassful laughter, we're the Palmful morning in the eyes of our home in the abyss.
when a child cries, he forgets that the route to
his home is written on his body as a tattoo.
when a girl thinks of gathering firewood in the heart of the forest, she thinks of her thigh &
the bushes surrounding it, nature made it so.
We do not think of our skin as a poetic of agony,
We do not think of our eyes as poetry letters
but we draw lines and currents of imaginations describing how rituals made men insane.
We carried out those prilgrim for the boys,
our forebearers made us cracked our head up,
they carved pumpkins traces for this generation; for this humble journey mixed with fire & water.
Our souls, our dreams were the Shakespearean places you never had the chance to see physical.
they are the rituals of nature, a side Sithoulte,
a wonder land created like a paradise you don't stay often but in your dreams & imageries.
We are birthed here as debris & plump scars,
a tortured lips holding the past & the present.
We are the foundation of everything evil spirits,
We were born in the ritual of a grievous war.
to say a human is a benchmark of his own,
to say a man is a mango dropping without a choice of where and how to touch the sand,
to say a man is everything fretwork of agony;
to say a men are slaughtered memories...
but to this edges of rites & repeated steps,
We'll remain the gospel from every mouth.
Our ancestral hands shall still set a table,
to tell the girlchild how to sit in a public hall
to hand over the shrine to the boychild
to tell man that he owns a woman as head.
to keep birthing good and ugly children.
our hope will always depict heavens glory
and, our darkest fears as the skin of hell.
And it must be passed down to the next
genes to tell the next & sand keep multiplying.
This is the ritual of mankind to remain alive.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_Frustrations.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 8:54 AM UTC
what is the benchmark or minimum
for telling someone, "i love you,"?
how many i miss yous
and i wish you were heres are enough,
even minutes after parting?
whatever the number is, **** it.
because my heart remembers to beat
and even attempts to soar with you
to heights new, unfound, unseen.
where the chittering of nearby birds
is both foreign and kind comfort
in our hands;
where oranges and strawberries grow
in tandem, vine over vine, root over root,
and fall into us, sweet and kind and lovely.
if i were to say it too soon, i'm afraid
i'd lose you, your wit, your smile,
dumb jokes and blazing blue eyes.
and by withholding, i risk combustion,
and an end to it all the same.
i love you.
Aug 31, 2023
Aug 31, 2023 at 11:39 PM UTC
Five nights a week at midnight, he dyes blue.
Angel, you’re bad news.
Salvation Army button-downs unbuttoned in a second our hands have introduced kinetic bear hugs, although visually frail and weathered.
Shoulder length hair and a cuticle away from pure. obsession.
Of all the heartbeats and hop, skips and jumps; I surrender.
Adding the lye
m.
cm.
mm.
Get closer.
Knock me over in slow motion.
Tumbling rotary dial “1” click. “2” click, click.
Rendering the grease
I’m closing the locker when
He appears at 11:55 P.M.
Beat up, an 8 track cassette surviving a barrage of garage sales.
My dear affection is still a child labor law. Juvenile.
Staring Aderol Syndrome (S.A.S.).
Birds nest palms, the delicate benchmark.
I would give up half of $4.75/hr.
Warm me up and share $9.50/hr.
Collecting Grease
Gunmetal blue, locker “27.”
I read an article of clothing yesterday, not from these parts.
At
Your
Steel-toe
Boots.
Please listen. You know the dialect.
Coffee brewer, lighter sharer, you are the Aurora Borealis eventful.
Five nights a week at midnight, I dye blue.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
It's ended like I expected
I lost another
But when it happens
My mind goes back to you
I wonder if current me
Would have lost you like before
Or if it was old me that
Might have won this time around
London is too big
With too much choice
Is that why I lose?
Or was old me better than now?
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
. . . Bonjour,
Banque de
Bruxelles...
Bonjour,
beautiful
Betty!
Benjamin
Baker!
Barry
back?
Barry's
back—
Bye!
Bye,
Betty!
Bonjour,
Ben!
Barry
Beauchamp—
Brussels'
best
broker!
(Barry
blushing)
Benjamin
Baker—
Boston's
best
businessman!
Brokerage
balanced,
Barry?
Been
better ...
Been
better?
Bad?!
Below
benchmark :-(
Bygones
be
Bygones ...
Bullish
bearing,
Barry?
Best
be
bullish,
Ben!
Better
be
bullish,
Barry!
Brokerage
best
buy?
Best
buy?
Bonds!
Best
buy
bonds?!
"Be
bullish"
Barry?
Brighthouse
baby
bonds!
Brighthouse
baby
bonds?
BHFAL—
Balanced,
beneficial
buy.
Baby
bonds
bad
bet,
Barry.
Best
bullish
buy?
Bitcoin!
Bitcoin
bites,
Barry!
Bloomberg
broadcasted
Bitcoin's
bubble
bursting.
Best
bullish
buy,
BARRY??
Bullion
bars?
British
Britannia?
"Be
bullish,"
Barry!!
BEST
BULLISH
BUY??
BlackRock,
Buffett's
Berkshire—
Better
believe,
both
bullish
buys!
Bingo!
BlackRock,
Berkshire—
Buy
both!
BOOYAH!!
Bought!
Better
be
bullish,
Barry!
Bye!
Bientôt,
Ben!
© 2020 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC
It must be rash
To compare and contrast
What should always be deemed
Unmatched and supreme.
But you raised the bar
Putting me behind bars
A slave to your sound
Captive and spellbound.
All at my behest
Providing me with the best
How can it be topped
Relinquished or stopped.
Now you have set the tone
Your love, a class of its own
Nobody comes close
Foreign or heroes.
Becoming my benchmark
Made it hopeless to embark
On any new adventure
My soul is already captured.
Prevail as my standard
My own version of Harvard
I will wait until you return
My heart will always be enamored.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 6:13 AM UTC
After my plan ended
I turned to seriousness,
like an uncluttered aficionado
I persisted with slide film,
treating them as an unfurnished enrichment,
for although not mounted
their sleeves were of equal impression
that captured the many verdant gardens visited,
holding them to a light box;
torn between being an Artist and a collector,
a feeling seemed to be conjured,
like a tentative transition
my heart wanted change,
tall shadows of people
cast contra jour,
a new benchmark for Autumns
dry like thatch.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 5:50 PM UTC
I've confined the greatest hits of Marx
to a playlist
and periodically map over them with dull,
grasping eyes, when desperate for talking points
or anti-capitalism ideation
The works of Bukowski, Poe, Emerson,
tethered to my fingertips where I can stave
them off enough to hold concept
but unearth no meaning
I can pull and manipulate quotes
like nobody's business
I googled Sigmund Freud once
because I forgot how to spell his name
If photos could become life
and give justice to experience and wealth,
I would be Frank Lloyd Wright
If John Muir had an iPhone,
he would be as distracted and rooted
Somehow he died surrounded by angels
at the advent of advertising and public relations;
Emily Dickinson would have been
an Instagram model and romanticized
mental illness
I gasp in admiration and nostalgia
at Rockwell, but that world never existed
beyond his oil, canvas and scope
If the people that wrote the history books
had to read them, they would be
as insatiable as me.
All we are is illusions of aesthetics
to one another
Trapped in the vaguely perfect candor
of rehearsed moments
Tripped up and mired in perspective
because we aren't as lost as they
Only lost to ourselves
The library of my mind relies
on binary communication,
programmed in arbitration
And inside, there's a small child
whose heart still desires to play
But he's overwhelmed and crying for help
In the corner, a yearning spirit
is steadfast and pacified
Forming a benchmark of baseline bullet points
Wrought with cynicism
I am not smart
I am not profound
I am not layered
I am not organic
I am not the next great American anything
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
Circa Holy Roman Empire
between ninth
and thirteenth century
after common era
(approximately 800 AD and 1200 AD)
benchmark year 780 bracketed
Benedictine monks
of Corbie Abbey
devised cheeky guttural lingual rapartee
vis a vis European
calligraphic standard script inked lined
writ via extant Irish and English monastic
members nsync
strong influence of Irish literati
eased communication
popular Latin cognoscenti
common lingua franca
spawned Carolingian Renaissance
Codices, pagan and Christian text
plus educational material
written viz Carolingian minuscule
Emperor Charlemagne issued prescription
(hence named Carolingian)
boosted unified modus operandi
he advocated learning,
though somewhat illiterate
recognized value of education
predicated on singular
codified regional alphabet,
the then webbed wide world
linkedin, sans uniform symbolic shapes
uncontested salient advantage
offered up ease to master
clear distinct explicit letter formation
simple logic boosted
rapidly transmitted standardization,
especially with exceptional legible
readable characteristic
adequate spaces between words
Merovingian "chancery hand"
still reserved to draft traditional charters
Gothic and Anglo Saxon
favored traditional local script
as opposed to Latin
learning latter involved less tricked out
embellished flourishes
or interconnected strokes
drawn by a scribe
allowing, enabling, and providing
greater popularity to teach masses,
latent etymological nuances apparent
centuries following implementation
quasi initial Carolingian letters
steadfast, where Carolingian
influence moats strong
adopted local stylistic signature flavor
divergence woke since proliferation
stoking diffuse prospects
decreeing entrenched footing,
where auspices boded prescient
until groundswell didst surcease
sub limb mated into modern patois.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
(alternately titled random axe of violence)
I calculated an average
of ~10.16.... deaths per year
of mass school shootings since Columbine,
a morbid benchmark where,
iGen / Gen Z 1995 - 2012 bore significant hit,
now students require armed guards to learn - veer
really within purportedly "safe places",
which statistics tracks a unilinear
trend, and justifiably causing
absolute zero reassurance
countering alarmist state of mind dust tear
ability to accept rationale
dismissing greater probability
prevails lightening will strike loved ones,
nonetheless share
ring understandable expressing
rightful salient concerns with school board
quotidian possibility son(s) and/or daughter(s) rare
lee remain mum at every opportunity,
how second amendment does not square
with democratic e pluribus unum firmament,
lieutenant management,
quintessential reverent tenets
pointing trigger finger of accountability
at lax gun purchasing rare
lee does emotional uproar demanding
immediate controls, limitations, restrictions,
et cetera on firearms scare
the bejesus from stalwart National Rifle Association,
whence spokesperson doth prepare
convincing rebuttal (lock, stock at barrel) overbear
ring lee outgun legitimate
parental concerns, now near
daily occurrence hardly cause a flinch glossed
inducing similar reactions as
sports home team defeated, sans mere
slightly raised eyebrows while headline news
when another tragedy gets tacked
unto the 122 students killed since Columbine
took innocent lives 19 plus years ago
which ** hum sacrifice of youth or teachers bare
lee induce ripple despite an increasing number
of spent bullets fallout inflicting
more than 208,000 vulnerable
impressionable psyches sorrows need a lifetime to air!
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
Her name was Nicola.
She adored the sky.
A natural born traveler.
Who loved being outside.
This was her favourite view.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 8:04 PM UTC
One of the things I don’t understand is this immense and deep obsession people have when it comes to heartbreak and pain. They say that when you undergo the process of getting your heart broken, we give birth to our art. That’s why we are familiar with Cobain’s words, “Thanks for the tragedy, I need it for my art.” We often nurture the feeling as if it were our child, being cradled in our arms, pushing away its hair off of his face, and encouraging him to grow to the boy he is about to be in the future. We often romanticize the feeling of staying up late at three a.m. in the morning, eyes puffed up from crying, lips stained with prayers and wishes that someday this pain will make absolute sense to us. We write about our experiences, ink them on journals and back of receipts, paint them on empty canvasses and create sculptures out of them, immortalized the emotional state you’re in, and beg that words and colors would be enough to delay the agony that’s been raging inside our chests.
But that’s where we are wrong. Heartbreak and pain shouldn’t be the benchmark of the art we’re going to make. We should write when we are happy, when we are in the highest state of our minds, with the world under our feet and the sky just within reach. We should write when the tears in the corners of our eyes are creation of pure joy, when our hands shake because we are so **** happy of the state we are in, when our knees turn soft because we couldn’t stand the fact that here we are, frolicking in the waves of pure bliss. So that when we are sad and feeling the blues, we have something to read or something to look at and think, “Ah, those were good times. Those were the happy times. Those were the best times.”
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 5:05 AM UTC
Upon opening my eyes
I awake to nothing
It is the benchmark of my days
Spent in furious labour
Or idling in empty hours
The result is always
Nothing
To love and tend in furious passion
To sicken and hate shamelessly
It still remains as nothing
Each whispered cause
Each luminous belief
Is nothing
Without meaning or reward
As each day fades
I close my eyes
To nothing.
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
i don't want each month to
become a benchmark
i can already feel
myself like a steel stiletto
scrawling each day off
anxiously waiting for time
to heal when it's only been
the tick of a metronome to
Scriabin's best
holding the slick undone
slivers of myself together
as wet kindling, an offering
that I hardly know how to give.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
Jackson sailed off into the sunset abandoning his child
his only daughter, Angel, untamed and wild
long black hair contrasts a wet white gown
miles adrift from the nearest town
embellished angst crawls her skin
heaven only knows where she's been
maudlin makeup smears her face in mascara
her father swindled in this masked era
into piracy planning to loot their *****
an honor in his eye, his civic duty
self banished into the hot springs and garden
her heart slowly begins to harden
the love she has lost can once again find her
before her vision stigmatizes to a blur
the image of her father brave and strong
the perception of a life that's never wrong
a paid mercenary sent to **** her faith in man
a benchmark set as high as she can
he hopes she knows she is not forgotten
that his spirit is not rotten
for it’s because of her he must leave
how could she be so naive
to think he didn't love her this entire time
abandoning her for a life of crime
false promises encouraged high hopes
until he's caught hanging from the gallows’ ropes
a crusader in thought, Jackson left his daughter on the shore
believing he’d return with a life worth plenty more
believing what he was wasn't enough
to perfectly protect his daughter, the diamond in the rough
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 2:34 PM UTC
☺☻☺
This objective will not be accomplished
through a series of planned action-steps.
This outcome will not be a result
of selectively modifying best practices.
Results-based analysis will not help you.
This objective cannot be achieved
through collaboration with peers
or self-reflecting on past strategies.
There will be no PowerPoint, Prezi, or any other slide show
to unpack this metric.
The new paradigm is an old dead joke.
Outcomes are irrelevant to this objective.
This objective laughs at you
as it explodes in your data-driven bureaucratic face.
Go to hell and take this benchmark with you,
you piece of administrative irrelevance.
There are no more attainable objectives.
SEEK GOD and LIVE.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 7:28 AM UTC