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"betting" poems
White folks: pack your bags and go. Our nut-brown world is quite offended. Make your shame-faced exit NOW, And leave your mansions unattended. Wait—before you pass the doors, It's time to settle ethnic scores. No more ragtime Minstrel Show. Our Moorish Science took it down. Black lives matter. White, less so— Now move your pale face out of town . . . But first, shell out for racial shame Caucasian losers of the game. Cultural pride is ours alone: Kings and Egyptian queens we were. The glories of our race, well-known Bedazzle in a darkened blur (Clear to Africa's descendants— Puzzling to you white dependents). Blackness lent your world its light, Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers. Scandinavia grew bright Under our beneficent powers. Negroes gave your blondes their beauty; Helped those Norsemen shake their ***** The Seven Wonders of the world: We built them all. No vain conjecture Dims our banner, black, unfurled, Above eternal architecture. Arts and knowledge gained from us Are what we threaten to discuss. We invented math and science Which you robbed from Timbuktu. Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance Caused Old Europe to renew. All our treasure that you plundered Testifies: your days are numbered. Classics of our Greeks you stole: Philosophy was never yours. Shame upon your racist soul; For Bach and Mozart both were Moors. Misappropriated treasures call for ruthless hard-line measures. Latino fate falls next—but, where ? Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ? Orientals everywhere: Choose your side and join the fight. Blackness rising! Late the hour; Heed your call to fight the power. Crackers need to check your race— Stop rooting for that ****** clown. Rednecks all up in our face; Racist throwbacks got us down. But as your statues bite the dust Your light goes dark (you know it must). So move on out, oppressor, thief. Long have you held our nation back. In some white galaxy seek relief— But here the light itself is black. Stars are racist. So is the sun. Now let God's great black will be done.
0
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
connecthook
Betting on the Races
White folks: pack your bags and go. Our nut-brown world is quite offended. Make your shame-faced exit NOW, And leave your mansions unattended. Wait—before you pass the doors, It's time to settle ethnic scores. No more ragtime Minstrel Show. Our Moorish Science took it down. Black lives matter. White, less so— Now move your pale face out of town . . . But first, shell out for racial shame Caucasian losers of the game. Cultural pride is ours alone: Kings and Egyptian queens we were. The glories of our race, well-known Bedazzle in a darkened blur (Clear to Africa's descendants— Puzzling to you white dependents). Blackness lent your world its light, Taught the Dutch to tend those flowers. Scandinavia grew bright Under our beneficent powers. Negroes gave your blondes their beauty; Helped those Norsemen shake their ***** The Seven Wonders of the world: We built them all. No vain conjecture Dims our banner, black, unfurled, Above eternal architecture. Arts and knowledge gained from us Are what we threaten to discuss. We invented math and science Which you robbed from Timbuktu. Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance Caused Old Europe to renew. All our treasure that you plundered Testifies: your days are numbered. Classics of our Greeks you stole: Philosophy was never yours. Shame upon your racist soul; For Bach and Mozart both were Moors. Misappropriated treasures call for ruthless hard-line measures. Latino fate falls next—but, where ? Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ? Orientals everywhere: Choose your side and join the fight. Blackness rising! Late the hour; Heed your call to fight the power. Crackers need to check your race— Stop rooting for that ****** clown. Rednecks all up in our face; Racist throwbacks got us down. But as your statues bite the dust Your light goes dark (you know it must). So move on out, oppressor, thief. Long have you held our nation back. In some white galaxy seek relief— But here the light itself is black. Stars are racist. So is the sun. Now let God's great black will be done.
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60
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside remembering all the times you've felt that way, and you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway, get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself, like millions of others you enter the arena once more. you are on the freeway threading through traffic now, moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful and so disappointing because we are all so alike and so different. you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and out through your shoes. it's been a tough fight worth fighting as we all drive along betting on another day.
0
13.3k
Charles Bukowski
Gamblers All
sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I'm not going to make it, but you laugh inside remembering all the times you've felt that way, and you walk to the bathroom, do your toilet, see that face in the mirror, oh my oh my oh my, but you comb your hair anyway, get into your street clothes, feed the cats, fetch the newspaper of horror, place it on the coffee table, kiss your wife goodbye, and then you are backing the car out into life itself, like millions of others you enter the arena once more. you are on the freeway threading through traffic now, moving both towards something and towards nothing at all as you punch the radio on and get Mozart, which is something, and you will somehow get through the slow days and the busy days and the dull days and the hateful days and the rare days, all both so delightful and so disappointing because we are all so alike and so different. you find the turn-off, drive through the most dangerous part of town, feel momentarily wonderful as Mozart works his way into your brain and slides down along your bones and out through your shoes. it's been a tough fight worth fighting as we all drive along betting on another day.
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23
at the track today, Father's Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a little surprise. most of the men seemed between 30 and 55, going to fat, many of them in walking shorts, they had gone stale in life, flattened out.... in fact, **** it, they aren't even worth writing about! why am I doing this? these don't even deserve a death bed, these little walking whales, only there are so many of them, in the urinals, in the food lines, they have managed to survive in a most limited sense but when you see so many of them like that, there and not there, breathing, farting, commenting, waiting for a thunder that will not arrive, waiting for the charging white horse of Glory, waiting for the lovely female that is not there, waiting to WIN, waiting for the great dream to engulf them but they do nothing, they clomp in their sandals, gnaw at hot dogs dog style, gulping at the meat, they complain about losing, blame the jocks, drink green beer, the parking lot is jammed with their unpaid for cars, the jocks mount again for another race, the men press toward the betting windows mesmerized, fathers and non-fathers Monday is waiting for them, this is the last big lark. and the horses are totally beautiful. it is shocking how beautiful they are at that time, at that place, their life shines through; miracles happen, even in hell. I decide to stay for one more race. from Transit magazine, 1994
0
6.9k
Charles Bukowski
40,000
at the track today, Father's Day, each paid admission was entitled to a wallet and each contained a little surprise. most of the men seemed between 30 and 55, going to fat, many of them in walking shorts, they had gone stale in life, flattened out.... in fact, **** it, they aren't even worth writing about! why am I doing this? these don't even deserve a death bed, these little walking whales, only there are so many of them, in the urinals, in the food lines, they have managed to survive in a most limited sense but when you see so many of them like that, there and not there, breathing, farting, commenting, waiting for a thunder that will not arrive, waiting for the charging white horse of Glory, waiting for the lovely female that is not there, waiting to WIN, waiting for the great dream to engulf them but they do nothing, they clomp in their sandals, gnaw at hot dogs dog style, gulping at the meat, they complain about losing, blame the jocks, drink green beer, the parking lot is jammed with their unpaid for cars, the jocks mount again for another race, the men press toward the betting windows mesmerized, fathers and non-fathers Monday is waiting for them, this is the last big lark. and the horses are totally beautiful. it is shocking how beautiful they are at that time, at that place, their life shines through; miracles happen, even in hell. I decide to stay for one more race. from Transit magazine, 1994
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95
Despite the frustration flaunting his bedspread I despise the energy it takes to proof bread “an hour at least” No I’m quite nocturnal I stay awake with the moon, owls, and turtles Who play cards in their shells Subconscious betting As we ante up because Every son is setting, out
0
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
paul-rousseau
Turtles
Despite the frustration flaunting his bedspread I despise the energy it takes to proof bread “an hour at least” No I’m quite nocturnal I stay awake with the moon, owls, and turtles Who play cards in their shells Subconscious betting As we ante up because Every son is setting, out
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10
An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone Body composition improvements will be shown There are health risks that aren’t known The outside body appearance you will in the enhance But the health issues you are betting on chance Your heart will enlarge Let that awareness give you a charge Next you will have kidney problems Later everything in your body will shutdown Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound The utterance will be no sound Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up It is not worth the rush of death When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb The signal will be its own sounding alarm Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.
0
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
preservationman
STEROIDS ANONYMOUS
An enhancing drug to increase massive body tone But let me tell you to leave that steroid drug alone Body composition improvements will be shown There are health risks that aren’t known The outside body appearance you will in the enhance But the health issues you are betting on chance Your heart will enlarge Let that awareness give you a charge Next you will have kidney problems Later everything in your body will shutdown Unless you stop steroid usage, you will be getting closer to being coffin bound The utterance will be no sound Instead to trying too quickly steroid build up Go natural and see your beauty while you hold your head up It is not worth the rush of death When it comes to enhancements there will be nothing left When you use steroids you become a walking time bomb The signal will be its own sounding alarm Stay away from steroid enhance while you still got the chance It’s natural all the way given the endurance too advance.
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20
In Mahabharat, Yudhishthira was considered as the most Pious Soul. He was considered as Epitome of Virtue and it is said he did not commit any mistake, except one half lie. At the End of Mahabharat Epic, when All Pandavas tried to Venture to ascend to Heaven alive, it was the Yudhishthira only, who ascended into Heaven Alive. During the Way to Heaven, all other four Pandavas , including  Draupadi died. It is said that Yudhishthira was so Pious , Vrtuous and so truthful that his Chariot Never touched the Ground. Because of Truthfullness, Right fullness , he practised in his whole life, his Chariot Never Touched the Soil. Such was greatness of Yudhishthira. However, Yudhishthira had to Visit Hell for some time where he saw all his brothers including Draupadi tortured. Even Karna was also seen being tortured in Hell. Later Yudhishthira  was explained that he did committed a half sin in his life as he lied regarding death of Ashvatthama. It is said that this was the only half sin , which he committed in his whole life. This was the only reason, Yudhishthira had to visit Hell. But what about Betting his Wife Draupadi in Gamble. Mahabharat is totallysilent on this aspect. In Mahabharat , Yudhishthira was not held guilty for betting his Wife Draupadi in Gamble and loosing her. Yudhishthira used his Wife as Good. I think this is one of the most heinous crime committed in Mahabharat. Yudhishthir Must had to be held guilty for that. But instead, this was rationalized. During the Exile, when Bhim and Arjuna held Yudhishthira responsible for all this, Sage Vyas reached there and told them story of Ram and Lakshmana that how Lakshmana left his wife for his brother Ram. Thus Yudhishthira was protected by Vyasa. It is a matter of Great Surprise to me that Mahabharat did not consider betting of wife in Gamble, A Sin. In my view betting of wife Draupadi in Gamble , by Yudhishthir is the most heinous crime , he committed and for this he was not worthy of entering into Heaven alive, like other Pandavas and Kauravas. All Rights Reserved I am the author of this Article. This Article is my Original work. I hold all the right in relation to my Article, as available in law. No body is entitled the use this Article , or any part thereof in any form without written consent from me. Ajay Amitabh Suman
0
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 3:05 AM UTC
ajayamitabh7
What was Yudhishthir's Greatest Sin?
In Mahabharat, Yudhishthira was considered as the most Pious Soul. He was considered as Epitome of Virtue and it is said he did not commit any mistake, except one half lie. At the End of Mahabharat Epic, when All Pandavas tried to Venture to ascend to Heaven alive, it was the Yudhishthira only, who ascended into Heaven Alive. During the Way to Heaven, all other four Pandavas , including  Draupadi died. It is said that Yudhishthira was so Pious , Vrtuous and so truthful that his Chariot Never touched the Ground. Because of Truthfullness, Right fullness , he practised in his whole life, his Chariot Never Touched the Soil. Such was greatness of Yudhishthira. However, Yudhishthira had to Visit Hell for some time where he saw all his brothers including Draupadi tortured. Even Karna was also seen being tortured in Hell. Later Yudhishthira  was explained that he did committed a half sin in his life as he lied regarding death of Ashvatthama. It is said that this was the only half sin , which he committed in his whole life. This was the only reason, Yudhishthira had to visit Hell. But what about Betting his Wife Draupadi in Gamble. Mahabharat is totallysilent on this aspect. In Mahabharat , Yudhishthira was not held guilty for betting his Wife Draupadi in Gamble and loosing her. Yudhishthira used his Wife as Good. I think this is one of the most heinous crime committed in Mahabharat. Yudhishthir Must had to be held guilty for that. But instead, this was rationalized. During the Exile, when Bhim and Arjuna held Yudhishthira responsible for all this, Sage Vyas reached there and told them story of Ram and Lakshmana that how Lakshmana left his wife for his brother Ram. Thus Yudhishthira was protected by Vyasa. It is a matter of Great Surprise to me that Mahabharat did not consider betting of wife in Gamble, A Sin. In my view betting of wife Draupadi in Gamble , by Yudhishthir is the most heinous crime , he committed and for this he was not worthy of entering into Heaven alive, like other Pandavas and Kauravas. All Rights Reserved I am the author of this Article. This Article is my Original work. I hold all the right in relation to my Article, as available in law. No body is entitled the use this Article , or any part thereof in any form without written consent from me. Ajay Amitabh Suman
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10
Sitting in labyrinths of cobblestone intestines I’m learning to eat the entrails of sacrifice only domestic, never hunted. pick up spoon. put down put down. put-down. pick up. um . spoon. um… putdown. there are motions for eating and I do them. soothsayer, look down pay attention to positions, shapes knife. butter. um… bread. no. breadth. better. no. butter-better. focus. knife. better. bread. knife, knife of haruspex. knife breadth. okay… deep breath. I have divided the livers and the watchers of victims. I have written on the anomalies in my bronze living, what I should look for, what they should allow for. my protruding viscera, my ancient autopsy of starving. Starving made me easier to tie. easier to lift. made me feel gutted out like finished ice-cream containers but, starving made me full of household gods. made me divine. made sheeps fly. made days disappear and made cold cold cold seem like simmering. made staying out of sight a piece of cake. cake. starving made me rich when I found little boys betting quarters for eating bowels of goats. made me small enough to fit through playground gates so I could swing swing in earthquakes, and portents. now, I listen to Memor, a man who knows nothing of starving talk about how starving I am. tomorrow I have to advise tomorrow I have to weigh tomorrow I have to swallow tomorrow I have to tomorrow I have tomorrow I am half and starving made me whole.
0
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 3:49 PM UTC
luke-gagnon
Starving
Sitting in labyrinths of cobblestone intestines I’m learning to eat the entrails of sacrifice only domestic, never hunted. pick up spoon. put down put down. put-down. pick up. um . spoon. um… putdown. there are motions for eating and I do them. soothsayer, look down pay attention to positions, shapes knife. butter. um… bread. no. breadth. better. no. butter-better. focus. knife. better. bread. knife, knife of haruspex. knife breadth. okay… deep breath. I have divided the livers and the watchers of victims. I have written on the anomalies in my bronze living, what I should look for, what they should allow for. my protruding viscera, my ancient autopsy of starving. Starving made me easier to tie. easier to lift. made me feel gutted out like finished ice-cream containers but, starving made me full of household gods. made me divine. made sheeps fly. made days disappear and made cold cold cold seem like simmering. made staying out of sight a piece of cake. cake. starving made me rich when I found little boys betting quarters for eating bowels of goats. made me small enough to fit through playground gates so I could swing swing in earthquakes, and portents. now, I listen to Memor, a man who knows nothing of starving talk about how starving I am. tomorrow I have to advise tomorrow I have to weigh tomorrow I have to swallow tomorrow I have to tomorrow I have tomorrow I am half and starving made me whole.
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48
psst, bet on the game bet on the game big bet, big win come on, bet on the game (got a problem with betting on games?) hey, bet on the game! hurry up, bet on the game you know you can bet on the game (if you have a problem with betting on games—) get in here, we're betting on the game betting on the game (call this number in case you're having trouble) it's almost over, bet on the game bet on the game the odds are good just bet on the game (we support you) you can bet on it
0
Mar 14, 2022
Mar 14, 2022 at 8:49 PM UTC
travis-dixon
the game
psst, bet on the game bet on the game big bet, big win come on, bet on the game (got a problem with betting on games?) hey, bet on the game! hurry up, bet on the game you know you can bet on the game (if you have a problem with betting on games—) get in here, we're betting on the game betting on the game (call this number in case you're having trouble) it's almost over, bet on the game bet on the game the odds are good just bet on the game (we support you) you can bet on it
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24
-The modern day is poor as people continue to act wild -Lack of accountability been running rounds for miles -Marching marathons in remorse for awhile -Watching expectations come up short as it starts to pile -Its been a long time that its been a good time now -Happiness is hard to be found -Life has emotionally been roller coasting in the pandemic trials -And time is racing pass the finish line, hoping to make this life count -I talk pro about growth cause it’s important to me -But letting go certain habits is a con i’m avoiding in me -Praying towards my come up. Patience is slow, but surely -I’ll manage to overcome those traits one day with the burning desire in me -I know the potential is in me -Been supporting free speech to damage people to speak out like it’s therapy -But hold up, who’s volunteering their time for me to hear my story? -Life’s crazy causing pressure on me -Single making 50k yearly, but the office career is unhappy -The girl I love right now not even mentally ready for me -Of course I love myself but now who’s gonna love me? -My heart holds hope while beating lonely, and yet -Waiting patiently for something new and more -Chances of getting married now is betting a craps game on the floor -Can’t continue to sleep with this women I have deep feelings for -If it’s 50/50 we’re not going to be together moving forward -And if there’s zero chance for us in the future, then allow me to close our paradise door -Back to the drawing board of this single world tour -Letting go is hard, but good for the soul i’m sure -Healing these deep wounds is speaking straight to the primary source -So I started writing my confessions in multiple letters to the Lord -Hoping my sins don’t cast the next stone, which I can’t afford -Asking God how further away am I from my reward? -Once I take that first step to obedience, then his light will shine from the door -This the start when I stop “starting over” and gain a little more -This the start when blessings touch my hands as they begin to pour -This the start when feeling apart turns my part into love and adore -This the start when the heart can fully be restored -And if there’s a high chance of life turning around, this the time I walk further towards more in store -Growth is what i’m fighting for
0
Jan 24, 2022
Jan 24, 2022 at 11:49 PM UTC
xavier-thomas
Just thoughts 💭 in poetry
-The modern day is poor as people continue to act wild -Lack of accountability been running rounds for miles -Marching marathons in remorse for awhile -Watching expectations come up short as it starts to pile -Its been a long time that its been a good time now -Happiness is hard to be found -Life has emotionally been roller coasting in the pandemic trials -And time is racing pass the finish line, hoping to make this life count -I talk pro about growth cause it’s important to me -But letting go certain habits is a con i’m avoiding in me -Praying towards my come up. Patience is slow, but surely -I’ll manage to overcome those traits one day with the burning desire in me -I know the potential is in me -Been supporting free speech to damage people to speak out like it’s therapy -But hold up, who’s volunteering their time for me to hear my story? -Life’s crazy causing pressure on me -Single making 50k yearly, but the office career is unhappy -The girl I love right now not even mentally ready for me -Of course I love myself but now who’s gonna love me? -My heart holds hope while beating lonely, and yet -Waiting patiently for something new and more -Chances of getting married now is betting a craps game on the floor -Can’t continue to sleep with this women I have deep feelings for -If it’s 50/50 we’re not going to be together moving forward -And if there’s zero chance for us in the future, then allow me to close our paradise door -Back to the drawing board of this single world tour -Letting go is hard, but good for the soul i’m sure -Healing these deep wounds is speaking straight to the primary source -So I started writing my confessions in multiple letters to the Lord -Hoping my sins don’t cast the next stone, which I can’t afford -Asking God how further away am I from my reward? -Once I take that first step to obedience, then his light will shine from the door -This the start when I stop “starting over” and gain a little more -This the start when blessings touch my hands as they begin to pour -This the start when feeling apart turns my part into love and adore -This the start when the heart can fully be restored -And if there’s a high chance of life turning around, this the time I walk further towards more in store -Growth is what i’m fighting for
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40
Good old Hawk. He was quite a guy. The truth of the matter was that Hawk was a needle freak. He was hooked on morphine. He had hepatitis. There was a whole in Hawk's arm where all the money went. Sad but true. Except for enough money for two beers for the Hawk and me. Who has to hear it. No one, everyone. Needles can be useful for medicine: they can also be a curse. You pierce the skin and feel the ruch and the juices flow unil you get your fill. But there never is a fill until it's over. Don't kid yourself. It will be over because it's a dead end trip. You'll crash at the end of your last trip. And the trip you have on earth will be on of misery and despair. Nirvana doesn't come cheap. Hundred dollars a day habit could lead to desperate measures. A life of crime, scamming, pawning, betting, borrowing, and stealing. I'm glad to say Hawk held himself above all this. It could not have been an easy road out to travel. He overdosed three years before the end. Hawk actually died and was revived by some kind of good fortune, or was it good fortune? Hawk after this had no memory or regular thought process. Hawk wasn't the same man after that. It was not a pretty sight. He was a hollow man, a mere shadow of his former self. I grew tired of telling Hawk the same thing over and over again. He lived with us for a few years. He moved out into a group home which he didn't like -- too much macaroni. About six months later Hawk was found on the floor of the group home bedroom. This time he was really dead. I don't know if needles were involved. I never heard the details. I like to think needles were not involved for the last three years of Hawk's life. I know he was clean for all the time he stayed with us. However, a great deal of damage had already occurred when Hawk came to live with us. Hawk was a night person. He would lie there on the couch watching TV all night long with our dog Ming faithfully by his side. They loved one another those two. They were soul mates. Hawk gave Ming her favorite toy -  a little blue ball. Hawk never gave up. His sister would come with raspberry pie and Hawk would glow for a few days. Anyway, I gave Hawks eulogy. The song for the eulogy, "The needle and the damage done" by Neil Young. To soar like a Hawk. To crash into the ground. I'd like to think his spirit soars like a hawk. Maybe now Hawk has found the peace he never found in this life.
0
Jan 22, 2019
Jan 22, 2019 at 2:38 AM UTC
david-huggett
The final chapter
Good old Hawk. He was quite a guy. The truth of the matter was that Hawk was a needle freak. He was hooked on morphine. He had hepatitis. There was a whole in Hawk's arm where all the money went. Sad but true. Except for enough money for two beers for the Hawk and me. Who has to hear it. No one, everyone. Needles can be useful for medicine: they can also be a curse. You pierce the skin and feel the ruch and the juices flow unil you get your fill. But there never is a fill until it's over. Don't kid yourself. It will be over because it's a dead end trip. You'll crash at the end of your last trip. And the trip you have on earth will be on of misery and despair. Nirvana doesn't come cheap. Hundred dollars a day habit could lead to desperate measures. A life of crime, scamming, pawning, betting, borrowing, and stealing. I'm glad to say Hawk held himself above all this. It could not have been an easy road out to travel. He overdosed three years before the end. Hawk actually died and was revived by some kind of good fortune, or was it good fortune? Hawk after this had no memory or regular thought process. Hawk wasn't the same man after that. It was not a pretty sight. He was a hollow man, a mere shadow of his former self. I grew tired of telling Hawk the same thing over and over again. He lived with us for a few years. He moved out into a group home which he didn't like -- too much macaroni. About six months later Hawk was found on the floor of the group home bedroom. This time he was really dead. I don't know if needles were involved. I never heard the details. I like to think needles were not involved for the last three years of Hawk's life. I know he was clean for all the time he stayed with us. However, a great deal of damage had already occurred when Hawk came to live with us. Hawk was a night person. He would lie there on the couch watching TV all night long with our dog Ming faithfully by his side. They loved one another those two. They were soul mates. Hawk gave Ming her favorite toy -  a little blue ball. Hawk never gave up. His sister would come with raspberry pie and Hawk would glow for a few days. Anyway, I gave Hawks eulogy. The song for the eulogy, "The needle and the damage done" by Neil Young. To soar like a Hawk. To crash into the ground. I'd like to think his spirit soars like a hawk. Maybe now Hawk has found the peace he never found in this life.
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11
*Deadly deluded deceitful demon's of:  inter-racial racism; murderous religiosity; frightful jealous hackings; tribally usurping genocides;  atrocious political strength-of-arms; invading ferocity; selfish presidential reasoning; Springs cut Irises - dripping vital red not purple, far from my window; self-effacing prime ministerial decrees of war; sanctioned moves by greedy banker pawns; designer labelled terrorism; War, a game now called 'Texas Billionaires Commodity'; a countries paid survival; seeded maniacal jealousy; globalisation's murdering grandiose; grandiloquent made walking bombaster(s) ; revenger mob leaders; our taxed Fools World !? Globalisation - orchestrated profiteers, betting our losses*
0
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 11:16 PM UTC
dj-thomas
Monsters
*Deadly deluded deceitful demon's of:  inter-racial racism; murderous religiosity; frightful jealous hackings; tribally usurping genocides;  atrocious political strength-of-arms; invading ferocity; selfish presidential reasoning; Springs cut Irises - dripping vital red not purple, far from my window; self-effacing prime ministerial decrees of war; sanctioned moves by greedy banker pawns; designer labelled terrorism; War, a game now called 'Texas Billionaires Commodity'; a countries paid survival; seeded maniacal jealousy; globalisation's murdering grandiose; grandiloquent made walking bombaster(s) ; revenger mob leaders; our taxed Fools World !? Globalisation - orchestrated profiteers, betting our losses*
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6
I should of left you years ago had I only known how much more pain you could actually cause me . If I'm getting honest perhaps i did know but I didn't want to admit it I wasn't ready I couldn't let you win to take power over me. I suppose I kinda got off on it the way you could make me feel incredible by eliminating my desire to feel at all. Or maybe I got off on the way you treated me always putting your needs ahead of mine the abuse and pain I believed I deserved. God how pathetic I was but I guess that's why it was so easy to get to know you to become devoured by your sweet seduction.. at the time I really needed you you saved me I guess that's why it's so hard to say goodbye to you as much as I truly sincerely ******* hate you and I do hate you I can't figure out how to escape the love I still will always have for you. You saved my life after all.. then you made it feel far from worth saving. I'm sorry it's been a good run but I'd say it's about time you've had this coming for awhile but I'd never been ready till now… and so I stand here hopeless Tired and ******* mad as hell to tell you it's time to go I'm ready to move on it won't be easy it isn't going to be easy but you win I surrender i am powerless over you and my life our life has become unmanageable I know when I'm with you that's the way it is.. so I'm leaving you to begin to pick up all the wreckage we made to buckle down and deal with my consequences for once in my life. And I have hope that one day I'll find someone better I'll be someone better and who knows I might even like me.. addiction you've been Dumped for Me so how does it feel? Wait you don't feel do you but don't worry I won't forget about you i couldn't I know your always there betting wishing waiting for me to **** things up expecting me to just come running back to you… and I know that will always be an option but right now I'm choosing life and feelings and depression and devotion and Hope never letting that Hope wonder to far away holding it close living Just for Today…..
0
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 7:32 AM UTC
mindy-belgard
Goodbye Addiction
I should of left you years ago had I only known how much more pain you could actually cause me . If I'm getting honest perhaps i did know but I didn't want to admit it I wasn't ready I couldn't let you win to take power over me. I suppose I kinda got off on it the way you could make me feel incredible by eliminating my desire to feel at all. Or maybe I got off on the way you treated me always putting your needs ahead of mine the abuse and pain I believed I deserved. God how pathetic I was but I guess that's why it was so easy to get to know you to become devoured by your sweet seduction.. at the time I really needed you you saved me I guess that's why it's so hard to say goodbye to you as much as I truly sincerely ******* hate you and I do hate you I can't figure out how to escape the love I still will always have for you. You saved my life after all.. then you made it feel far from worth saving. I'm sorry it's been a good run but I'd say it's about time you've had this coming for awhile but I'd never been ready till now… and so I stand here hopeless Tired and ******* mad as hell to tell you it's time to go I'm ready to move on it won't be easy it isn't going to be easy but you win I surrender i am powerless over you and my life our life has become unmanageable I know when I'm with you that's the way it is.. so I'm leaving you to begin to pick up all the wreckage we made to buckle down and deal with my consequences for once in my life. And I have hope that one day I'll find someone better I'll be someone better and who knows I might even like me.. addiction you've been Dumped for Me so how does it feel? Wait you don't feel do you but don't worry I won't forget about you i couldn't I know your always there betting wishing waiting for me to **** things up expecting me to just come running back to you… and I know that will always be an option but right now I'm choosing life and feelings and depression and devotion and Hope never letting that Hope wonder to far away holding it close living Just for Today…..
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1
I pluck you a crocus and all life becomes a legend of the body a torch-whipped storm pastel in its fire buries me in you when I hand you the stem a shake and the yellow stamen loses its dust lady lady forgets its bug when I place the flower in your vase spots wiped black-less insect no more lady lady the inspection of autumn bulb-less growth and a string of red ***** and betting its stripes a tiny mound of dirt obscured by rotting leaves the last of you reaching for my hand
0
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
KingPanda
lady lady
I pluck you a crocus and all life becomes a legend of the body a torch-whipped storm pastel in its fire buries me in you when I hand you the stem a shake and the yellow stamen loses its dust lady lady forgets its bug when I place the flower in your vase spots wiped black-less insect no more lady lady the inspection of autumn bulb-less growth and a string of red ***** and betting its stripes a tiny mound of dirt obscured by rotting leaves the last of you reaching for my hand
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24
I don’t know the moment we became friends I don’t know the moment you transformed from a looming, strong-willed Sasquatch To a cute ’n’ kind Koala I’m not sure how you managed that change but I’m glad you did Not that I’m saying you were the only one to change Perhaps I was the Sasquatch before and have since softened into a loving Llama or a caring Camel In any case, it really doesn't matter who did the changing Just that it happened That out of all the random connections that could be made We were challenged to care for each other. I don’t know what brought us together or why Maybe it was nature challenging its bounds to see what it could get to fall in love with what Perhaps it was just us realizing there was a kindred spirit behind all of that bristled Sasquatchian fur Whatever it was I’m betting God was ultimately behind it *** He’s legit like that Honestly though, I’m glad it happened I’m glad that my view of you changed. I’m glad that I got to know you. I’m stoked that we talk and let each other know what’s happening in life. I rejoice that you were a persistent little Sasquatch when I had written you off. I’m glad I can call you friend. I can honestly say that I would take a bullet for you, That’s right; I’ll be your guard Llama I would traverse space and time, fight all laws of physics and all the sciences just to make sure you were ok For you I would find Atlantis, I’d find the “missing link” I’d find all the things that are mysterious and leave you puzzling I’d travel to places that aren't possible to reach simply because people have ceased to believe in them And make strangers begin to believe again just to make you smile or distract you from the hurt for even a moment My dear sweet little Sasquatch I adore you I treasure you Couldn't live without you
0
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
caroline-1
Positive Change
I don’t know the moment we became friends I don’t know the moment you transformed from a looming, strong-willed Sasquatch To a cute ’n’ kind Koala I’m not sure how you managed that change but I’m glad you did Not that I’m saying you were the only one to change Perhaps I was the Sasquatch before and have since softened into a loving Llama or a caring Camel In any case, it really doesn't matter who did the changing Just that it happened That out of all the random connections that could be made We were challenged to care for each other. I don’t know what brought us together or why Maybe it was nature challenging its bounds to see what it could get to fall in love with what Perhaps it was just us realizing there was a kindred spirit behind all of that bristled Sasquatchian fur Whatever it was I’m betting God was ultimately behind it *** He’s legit like that Honestly though, I’m glad it happened I’m glad that my view of you changed. I’m glad that I got to know you. I’m stoked that we talk and let each other know what’s happening in life. I rejoice that you were a persistent little Sasquatch when I had written you off. I’m glad I can call you friend. I can honestly say that I would take a bullet for you, That’s right; I’ll be your guard Llama I would traverse space and time, fight all laws of physics and all the sciences just to make sure you were ok For you I would find Atlantis, I’d find the “missing link” I’d find all the things that are mysterious and leave you puzzling I’d travel to places that aren't possible to reach simply because people have ceased to believe in them And make strangers begin to believe again just to make you smile or distract you from the hurt for even a moment My dear sweet little Sasquatch I adore you I treasure you Couldn't live without you
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33
A candidate from Springfield town Confused, was wandering all around He addressed the voters with a grin, “I do not know what state I’m in, But we're headed toward election day And here's a game you all can play!" The game is "Voting Booth Roulette" Spin the wheel and place a bet Put all your money down on me I think as voters you'll agree That a vote for me is a **** good bet Here’s a list of what you’ll get: Fewer jobs and Higher taxes Shredded emails, notes and faxes Promises That I won’t keep Longer work hours Much less sleep Construction work on every road Less money for the schools More politician pensions, yes Vote for me, my betting fools." PwL  5/26/15
0
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
phil-lindsey
Voting Booth Roulette
A candidate from Springfield town Confused, was wandering all around He addressed the voters with a grin, “I do not know what state I’m in, But we're headed toward election day And here's a game you all can play!" The game is "Voting Booth Roulette" Spin the wheel and place a bet Put all your money down on me I think as voters you'll agree That a vote for me is a **** good bet Here’s a list of what you’ll get: Fewer jobs and Higher taxes Shredded emails, notes and faxes Promises That I won’t keep Longer work hours Much less sleep Construction work on every road Less money for the schools More politician pensions, yes Vote for me, my betting fools." PwL  5/26/15
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24
I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed watching the patterns reflected moonlight made on my ceiling when I heard the faint beep of the kitchen microwave. I smelled popcorn. I decided to fill up my water bottle and see who was up. I slipped on a thick, terrycloth robe I’d gotten from Lisa last Christmas. It must weigh 15 pounds and it’s so warm and heavy I seldom wear it. I silently glided into the main room. Leong was standing at one of our two large picture windows staring out at the night. Her left arm cradling a bowl of ultimate-butter popcorn. Anna told me last night that Leong and her long-time boyfriend, who’s back in China, had broken up. They’d been together forever and had been expected to marry. A bright half-moon was hanging high over campus, an electric ornament on a velvet background, its moonlight glint painted the world, like ice on mountaintops. “I heard about your breakup,” I said, “what does it mean?” In Leong’s world, who you dated was of family interest. That person had to be approved, their bona fides proven - they had to fit into some long term plan. “It means I can’t be tamed,” she said, with soft bravado. After a moment, she spoke again, more seriously. “It’s better this way - for now - someday..,” she trailed off. I understood. All of our hopes are resting on someday, like so many wagers at a casino. I imagined some gambler, stepping up to a betting window, in an old black-and-white movie, saying, ”Gimmie 5 bucks on Someday to win.” Something in her voice, a brittleness, precluded further questions. I looked at the clock, it read 3:47. I gave her a hug and yawning, filled up my water bottle from the refrigerator's filtered tap. “See ya.” I whispered and headed off, back to bed. With any luck I could squeeze another hour's sleep out of the morning.
0
Feb 3, 2022
Feb 3, 2022 at 5:04 AM UTC
anaisvionet
sleepy popcorn
I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed watching the patterns reflected moonlight made on my ceiling when I heard the faint beep of the kitchen microwave. I smelled popcorn. I decided to fill up my water bottle and see who was up. I slipped on a thick, terrycloth robe I’d gotten from Lisa last Christmas. It must weigh 15 pounds and it’s so warm and heavy I seldom wear it. I silently glided into the main room. Leong was standing at one of our two large picture windows staring out at the night. Her left arm cradling a bowl of ultimate-butter popcorn. Anna told me last night that Leong and her long-time boyfriend, who’s back in China, had broken up. They’d been together forever and had been expected to marry. A bright half-moon was hanging high over campus, an electric ornament on a velvet background, its moonlight glint painted the world, like ice on mountaintops. “I heard about your breakup,” I said, “what does it mean?” In Leong’s world, who you dated was of family interest. That person had to be approved, their bona fides proven - they had to fit into some long term plan. “It means I can’t be tamed,” she said, with soft bravado. After a moment, she spoke again, more seriously. “It’s better this way - for now - someday..,” she trailed off. I understood. All of our hopes are resting on someday, like so many wagers at a casino. I imagined some gambler, stepping up to a betting window, in an old black-and-white movie, saying, ”Gimmie 5 bucks on Someday to win.” Something in her voice, a brittleness, precluded further questions. I looked at the clock, it read 3:47. I gave her a hug and yawning, filled up my water bottle from the refrigerator's filtered tap. “See ya.” I whispered and headed off, back to bed. With any luck I could squeeze another hour's sleep out of the morning.
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9
A man poses at a dimly lit table, a light hangs directly overhead with a cobweb ribbon-wrapped around the steel wire escaping the ceiling. An inverted roulette table, a man betting against the house: It is always this way. Light flickers, flipped on, and off, and on, without a switch with which to assert control. He is alone in the squeaking chair, sipping tea and dipping his crumb-covered hands into the napkin-covered basket of water crackers and salted peanuts. Sitting, he poses for practice, but for now, he practices for no one. The house is empty. In the back of his mind, there is no worry of what one will find upon entering the kitchen: A scarecrow at a table, full of straw and teeth dulled down from night grinding, sitting in, what could be mistaken as, a pensive position. The scavenger hand makes him look wanting. It's partner is propped on chin, accompanied by his half-sculpted smile and the dark-light contrast of his hair and eyes with yellow shining off of his two front teeth. The color is not the fault of stumbling home too late to care for the mouth, but of the old incandescent staring him down and the obsessively clean, marble surface at which he puckers his face. A tapping in the hall stirs his bones and his body darts up. A crow, it seems, with small grey beak has wandered in from the overgrown fields, the fields that haven't been tended to since this boy began taking himself too seriously. The both of them with stilts for legs and no breeze of running feet from scream to sway the pair of pairs. Their eyes connect and neither moves. Who should place the first bet, black or red, and who will set the ball in motion? The light goes off. Denoument is a bad time for a bulb to die. As calm as a hand with razorblade against skin, the scarecrow sits down once again and poses. The bird observes his motion, calls, and waits, but the man moves no more, overjoyed with an invisible audience, a full stomach.
0
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 3:05 AM UTC
joseph-valle
The Nighttime Scarecrow
A man poses at a dimly lit table, a light hangs directly overhead with a cobweb ribbon-wrapped around the steel wire escaping the ceiling. An inverted roulette table, a man betting against the house: It is always this way. Light flickers, flipped on, and off, and on, without a switch with which to assert control. He is alone in the squeaking chair, sipping tea and dipping his crumb-covered hands into the napkin-covered basket of water crackers and salted peanuts. Sitting, he poses for practice, but for now, he practices for no one. The house is empty. In the back of his mind, there is no worry of what one will find upon entering the kitchen: A scarecrow at a table, full of straw and teeth dulled down from night grinding, sitting in, what could be mistaken as, a pensive position. The scavenger hand makes him look wanting. It's partner is propped on chin, accompanied by his half-sculpted smile and the dark-light contrast of his hair and eyes with yellow shining off of his two front teeth. The color is not the fault of stumbling home too late to care for the mouth, but of the old incandescent staring him down and the obsessively clean, marble surface at which he puckers his face. A tapping in the hall stirs his bones and his body darts up. A crow, it seems, with small grey beak has wandered in from the overgrown fields, the fields that haven't been tended to since this boy began taking himself too seriously. The both of them with stilts for legs and no breeze of running feet from scream to sway the pair of pairs. Their eyes connect and neither moves. Who should place the first bet, black or red, and who will set the ball in motion? The light goes off. Denoument is a bad time for a bulb to die. As calm as a hand with razorblade against skin, the scarecrow sits down once again and poses. The bird observes his motion, calls, and waits, but the man moves no more, overjoyed with an invisible audience, a full stomach.
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60
Morning has awoken But still in evening dress, Betting once, Then maybe twice, But China still too far. I look again at shattered crystal And toppled chandelier-- Frozen again I remain at the door.
0
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
aeyajj
Octastich
Morning has awoken But still in evening dress, Betting once, Then maybe twice, But China still too far. I look again at shattered crystal And toppled chandelier-- Frozen again I remain at the door.
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8
you always buy a ticket got to be in it to win it life is a lottery a game of chance loss or gain betting on a horse that’s lame always loaded to the dealer’s hand wake up wake up from the dream tomorrow is another day because you see it that way the moment is now never before lived the place may be familiar but take in the landscape forgive yourself the pain bad decisions flawed refrain your future is here and now step through the door take a bow
0
Jul 5, 2020
Jul 5, 2020 at 7:44 AM UTC
nigdaw
in it to win it
you always buy a ticket got to be in it to win it life is a lottery a game of chance loss or gain betting on a horse that’s lame always loaded to the dealer’s hand wake up wake up from the dream tomorrow is another day because you see it that way the moment is now never before lived the place may be familiar but take in the landscape forgive yourself the pain bad decisions flawed refrain your future is here and now step through the door take a bow
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20
Fingernails dug out of steering wheel in the out door, not enough gin to **** 50 pushups. 50 more. Change my body Maybe you won't ignore Ambien, the lull of the ceiling fan, the crowds of protestors disband -- the blanket warm, cosmos tease and can, malaise, malaise, I'm trying to be active and sane, sane for the next promise ring holder and wine cooler queen, here comes the switch: ether. The night brings me back to you by way of illusion -- you've got lingerie I've got needs You've got teeth I've got shoulder blades so it begins, white knuckle, culling songs, strain on scalp -- I sing along, ancient melody, satin dirge -- precursor to your soliloquy and black venom urge to scatter this bandaged man-- pieces in your hand, collected and left on 100 dressers for ill-informed future connivers conspire but I'm only tired of trying not to look like a liar so I blend into your blood satisfied smirk from transparent you but what is the future --a present hope but what is the past --a present memory so we abolish each other now betting on tangible mirages in this delicious, miraculous night the stars align the planets collide not an inch of you goes unkissed not an inch of me goes without an itch blackness and breath swirl and spit me into a confetti end time without prophet or priest only a skinny seed, and then the switch: wake with a present hope of getting over my present memory.
0
Oct 11, 2012
Oct 11, 2012 at 5:37 PM UTC
jj-hutton
an idiosyncratic union
Fingernails dug out of steering wheel in the out door, not enough gin to **** 50 pushups. 50 more. Change my body Maybe you won't ignore Ambien, the lull of the ceiling fan, the crowds of protestors disband -- the blanket warm, cosmos tease and can, malaise, malaise, I'm trying to be active and sane, sane for the next promise ring holder and wine cooler queen, here comes the switch: ether. The night brings me back to you by way of illusion -- you've got lingerie I've got needs You've got teeth I've got shoulder blades so it begins, white knuckle, culling songs, strain on scalp -- I sing along, ancient melody, satin dirge -- precursor to your soliloquy and black venom urge to scatter this bandaged man-- pieces in your hand, collected and left on 100 dressers for ill-informed future connivers conspire but I'm only tired of trying not to look like a liar so I blend into your blood satisfied smirk from transparent you but what is the future --a present hope but what is the past --a present memory so we abolish each other now betting on tangible mirages in this delicious, miraculous night the stars align the planets collide not an inch of you goes unkissed not an inch of me goes without an itch blackness and breath swirl and spit me into a confetti end time without prophet or priest only a skinny seed, and then the switch: wake with a present hope of getting over my present memory.
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47
Constructing the Year Anew! I skipped on the wind to infinity. Nearing insanity, not! Riding on ice floes and hedges. Now and then perched on the fence. Betting the moon will cease to glow. As last year,bade blurred adieu. Her feminine face wrapped in chiffon. Rippling in the breeze of night. Rustling as the tree tops she tenderly strokes. With merciful light as blessing of naive honour. Not knowing the gift of the year to come. Onward and upwards I ride. Toss my hair over the shoulder of time. Time and tide stand alone. While waiting for love not to trip. A night cruiser flowing on mortality's tides. January until to the ides of March. I creep coldly in silent sensitive chill. Waiting for love to pick old ribbons apart and thrill me. Decipher the mystical one. DNA made me. Let mRNA make me remember the one I was before. May the candle in the bathroom burn ever hot. Let me see the light. The light of my life. By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
0
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
olivia-kent
Constructing the Year Anew!
Constructing the Year Anew! I skipped on the wind to infinity. Nearing insanity, not! Riding on ice floes and hedges. Now and then perched on the fence. Betting the moon will cease to glow. As last year,bade blurred adieu. Her feminine face wrapped in chiffon. Rippling in the breeze of night. Rustling as the tree tops she tenderly strokes. With merciful light as blessing of naive honour. Not knowing the gift of the year to come. Onward and upwards I ride. Toss my hair over the shoulder of time. Time and tide stand alone. While waiting for love not to trip. A night cruiser flowing on mortality's tides. January until to the ides of March. I creep coldly in silent sensitive chill. Waiting for love to pick old ribbons apart and thrill me. Decipher the mystical one. DNA made me. Let mRNA make me remember the one I was before. May the candle in the bathroom burn ever hot. Let me see the light. The light of my life. By ladylivvi1 © 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
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28
it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand Hope you find out what you are; already know what I am And if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again You can tell me how vile I already know that I am I'll grow old, start acting my age It'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate A crown of gold, a heart that's harder than stone And it hurts to hold on, but it's missed when it's gone Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not I'm glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget If it makes you less sad, I'll move out of this state You can keep to yourself, I'll keep out of your way And if it makes you less sad, I'll take your pictures all down Every picture you paint, I will paint myself out It's cold as a tomb, and it's dark in your room When I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds So call it quits, or get a grip You say you wanted a solution; you just wanted to be missed You are calm and reposed Let your beauty unfold Pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones Spring keeps you ever close You are second-hand smoke You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins Holding on to yourself the best you can You are the smell before rain You are the blood in my veins
0
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 7:10 AM UTC
Eloi1997
The beauty of a lily
it makes you less sad, I will die by your hand Hope you find out what you are; already know what I am And if it makes you less sad, we'll start talking again You can tell me how vile I already know that I am I'll grow old, start acting my age It'll be a brand new day in a life that you hate A crown of gold, a heart that's harder than stone And it hurts to hold on, but it's missed when it's gone Call me a safe bet, I'm betting I'm not I'm glad that you can forgive, only hoping as time goes, you can forget If it makes you less sad, I'll move out of this state You can keep to yourself, I'll keep out of your way And if it makes you less sad, I'll take your pictures all down Every picture you paint, I will paint myself out It's cold as a tomb, and it's dark in your room When I sneak to your bed to pour salt in your wounds So call it quits, or get a grip You say you wanted a solution; you just wanted to be missed You are calm and reposed Let your beauty unfold Pale white, like the skin stretched over your bones Spring keeps you ever close You are second-hand smoke You are so fragile and thin, standing trial for your sins Holding on to yourself the best you can You are the smell before rain You are the blood in my veins
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27
My Doppelganger holds secret negotiations with my Avatar. Slicing up the available territory by flipping a coin. Apparently, I can see a me for myself if I happen to be in Somalia next Monday. But that’s the Avator talking. Doppelganger is betting on Seattle. I am eavesdropping, sitting around in my underwear. They think I am unaware because I can’t see them, but they are impossible without me. Goethe, Shelley and John Donne are in the next apartment huddled over some broken poems each had written on the mirrors. No mistakes were made. No reflections. They get to see themselves out of the corner of one eye, for up to nine seconds which is like a lifetime to remember. Yet the acrid smell of Neitzsche emanates from dark corners. Sturm und Drang be ****** Neitzsche is convinced no one has ever looked like him, but he does suggest a parallel universe. Abe Lincoln, a latecomer and unlikely participant, picks up a few pointers. He knows full well that what he saw was not a reflection. And he rode that train all the way from Pittsburg. All those windows... And, yes, KA, the spirit double, the Egyptian Goddess, goes in **** as the Greek Princess and shows up as Helen to tease Paris of Troy. How can you not believe that? For Goddess sake, she helped end the Trojan War. I have a lot of time on my hands. I don’t get out much. Ava and Dopp came by just to let me know I’m still around.
0
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
don-joaquin-shelton
My Doppleganger
My Doppelganger holds secret negotiations with my Avatar. Slicing up the available territory by flipping a coin. Apparently, I can see a me for myself if I happen to be in Somalia next Monday. But that’s the Avator talking. Doppelganger is betting on Seattle. I am eavesdropping, sitting around in my underwear. They think I am unaware because I can’t see them, but they are impossible without me. Goethe, Shelley and John Donne are in the next apartment huddled over some broken poems each had written on the mirrors. No mistakes were made. No reflections. They get to see themselves out of the corner of one eye, for up to nine seconds which is like a lifetime to remember. Yet the acrid smell of Neitzsche emanates from dark corners. Sturm und Drang be ****** Neitzsche is convinced no one has ever looked like him, but he does suggest a parallel universe. Abe Lincoln, a latecomer and unlikely participant, picks up a few pointers. He knows full well that what he saw was not a reflection. And he rode that train all the way from Pittsburg. All those windows... And, yes, KA, the spirit double, the Egyptian Goddess, goes in **** as the Greek Princess and shows up as Helen to tease Paris of Troy. How can you not believe that? For Goddess sake, she helped end the Trojan War. I have a lot of time on my hands. I don’t get out much. Ava and Dopp came by just to let me know I’m still around.
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24
Thin wire, overzealous leading to being over tired... an over reliance on the hopes of being reinspired, The burning thoughts; of a migraine constantly on fire. Ten thousand shots in my head—__ba, ba, ba, ba,__ swimming over my depths, trying my best to breathe; all the while in still waters choking my neck. Some live too long...living a life of the dead. I'm singing a song, better sounding inside—__la, la, la, la,__ It goes while I'm looking in the mirror, seeing myself and my self enemy. Who's betting on their works, to seem like a better version of themself/me? Letting be of the many ways I try to appear calm in some days. Hunger in my eyes; starved of the sights of true love. But the dirtiest intentions, has my face fully covered in mud. I give and give, but these returns are never enough. But plenty are the voices in my head, battling constantly—__blah, blah, blah, blah,__ as no-one else hears this cracking glass in my chest. I figure we're all fragile figures, in the end.
0
Jul 17, 2022
Jul 17, 2022 at 2:36 PM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
Fragile figures
Thin wire, overzealous leading to being over tired... an over reliance on the hopes of being reinspired, The burning thoughts; of a migraine constantly on fire. Ten thousand shots in my head—__ba, ba, ba, ba,__ swimming over my depths, trying my best to breathe; all the while in still waters choking my neck. Some live too long...living a life of the dead. I'm singing a song, better sounding inside—__la, la, la, la,__ It goes while I'm looking in the mirror, seeing myself and my self enemy. Who's betting on their works, to seem like a better version of themself/me? Letting be of the many ways I try to appear calm in some days. Hunger in my eyes; starved of the sights of true love. But the dirtiest intentions, has my face fully covered in mud. I give and give, but these returns are never enough. But plenty are the voices in my head, battling constantly—__blah, blah, blah, blah,__ as no-one else hears this cracking glass in my chest. I figure we're all fragile figures, in the end.
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17
Globalisation - orchestrated profiteers, betting our losses .
0
Apr 28, 2010
Apr 28, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
dj-thomas
Mean + Selfish = Greedy Destroyers
Globalisation - orchestrated profiteers, betting our losses .
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2