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Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The
ARR Feb 2011
I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
I will tell you I take the long way to class
in  a Chicago January
in the snow
on foot
just to finish dissecting Teenage Dream because you said that song reminds you of me
I will tell you I devote time out of my day solely to thinking about you  heart heavily.
Because I am always thinking about you, fair warning.
And if I let myself indulge a week's worth of thinking of you in one minute,
maybe I can study some for my midterm in the morning.

I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
In those blindsiding instances of stark realization,
when I get a knee **** reaction putting on my scarf that still smells like fruit passion
because I made you wear it on the El platform to fend off a wind that round every corner could bend,
I will take out my blackberry, tear off my gloves, and tempt frost bite on the tips of my fingers
to send you a text that reads “I miss you.”

I won't tell you I love you when I don't.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don't.
Baby, I need not be insincere, I am not in love. Yet.
And it’s not you, and it’s not me. It is everyone else here.
Everyone else beating my brain in with cosmic signs
of Matt and Kim playing on the radio when they never play Matt and Kim on the radio.
Every poet pleading with me personally will flip their pages and I will be deemed defenseless against all odds.
I will tell you I love you, and I will mean it so fiercely
my chest will cave in upon itself thumping like a cartoon and creating a gooey mess of pink hearts.
Because you heart pink hearts.

I won't tell you I love you when I don’t.
I won't tell you I miss you when I don’t.
I will tell you embedded in the endless, elusive scenes of whimsy that make up my insides,
that song by The Darkness will play over every loudspeaker in the Student Center
because you paused,
you looked at me,
and you said “I love you. I really love you.”
I sat this evening
there beneath the swallowing trees
adjacent to the immortal stumps.
I sat
and thought.
Nothing new. Don't die.
Relax. Persevere *******!

And I happened to believe myself.
"He's wise sometimes," I said.
The passers passed me by,
averting their curious little beady eyes,
purposefully blindsiding the phantasmic figure
curled up pensively. They rush by.
I eat the dusking sky
and the squirrels and placid spiders
night down within the knowing trees.

Peaceingly, the twilight dawns anew.
Unsteady, I stride toward clumping moths with
wishful confidence. Meaning only words,
the gentle enfolding blacks behind
and the lighted moths bat my lashes
as I reach incandescent optimism.
"Well, we'll see," says he.
Monica Mourad Feb 20
One was left reeling
The other went on with  life

Two people words exchanged
On a Thursday at 2:00 pm
Feelings emotions intentions coming to light
One’s truth blindsiding the other’s truth
4 months of you and me
Trickled down to a 20 minute text exchange
That’s what I was worth to you.

Her reply unshaken disappointment
His reply an aloof “don’t be stranger … let’s be friends”
Silent tears mourning the idea of what could have been - she refused to let him see her break .
Him going about life - realizing he might not really want a clean break.

Me saying take care - walking away
You saying add me on social media - trying to keep me in your life

Words said can’t be unsaid
This is how the story of us ends.
I hate this part right here... the end.
A Deco Feb 2015
we never stood a chance against our dead in the headlight blindsiding backwards way of living

coffee cups and arbitrary laughter

i never liked living room company
i prefer the horses
never take a shoe off and stand when you're able

my name is Andrew and I like fist fights and burnt marshmallows
piles of winter headwinds and snow drifts that don't numb your ankle
hard work with no shirt and two day stubble
a few beers at night but not enough to hurt it
i've never been one for hangovers
i like crescent wrenches that fit perfectly
the pop of a difficult pickle jar and the inedible satisfaction after
i like my friends and thereafter
i'm not keen on others who want that circle larger
back squats and knee wraps
jello shots that don't cost me a dime
i do what i want and want what i do
i will live my life upon my dreams
and i don't have any regrets
DaRk IcE Jul 2015
Touch fades into the shadows like light in a closing door
Leaving you blind with vision
Smell fades into the shadows like a gust of wind through a slamming door
Leaving you struck with no knowledge
Sight fades into the shadows like stars behind black clouds
Leaving you confused to the known
Taste fades into the shadows like a lost kite in a storm
Leaving you dumbfounded to what is living and what is dead
Hearing fades into the shadows like a sudden death blindsiding your security
Leaving you starved and ridden of humanity
William Jackson Dec 2012
Ideas becoming ink for your pen to bleed
Visions seen, held still on once blank pages to be viewed for eternity
A whole life’s experiences boiled down
Like Crack
To powerful words that, once touched by the tongue is nothing less than ecstasy
If spoken able to bring you back to a place and time once known
A time machine for you and your audience to travel in
Time being bent like young bamboo sticks to the whim of the speaker
If spoken traveling through the air targeting the ears of the ignorant like a snipers bullet
Able to hit you square between the eyes
Blindsiding its victim
Stopping in the frontal lobe
It is hear where the bullet is digested
The face goes blank, no expression
Eyes roll back starring at the bullet now lodged in the brain
The person brought back to life to experience it all over again
That is poetry
Wordfreak Jul 2016
The unfortold concussions.
The blindsiding explosions.
I'm broken, yes.
But I'm getting worse.
This is emotional shock.
(composed about eight years ago
moments ago this poem underwent
     slight poetic surgical face lift
modifications by this bro)
this spine tingling reaction,

     sans flushed testosterone
     from heads to toe
sketched out sometime
     from ~july or august 2012 or so
and (just now) triggered chain reaction for roe

man tick undulations i.e. wishful desires slow
     lee shifting (in seconds flat)
     from neutral to overdrive
     exceeding speedometer limit maximum

     nearly attaining speed of light quo
shunt seeing an aesthetically pleasing chic chick
in the summer of full feminine bloom
     envisioning plunging hot rod
     into her lubricated derrick

(and yes, young enough
     to beget me via ****** fling
     a splendid supreme offspring
of this gap toothed fifty three year old simian),
     who doth wanna swing
like a boyish chap
     at prime love making time zing,

with thee, whose primary purpose comprised
     tutoring my daughter whose deficiency
     with language skills warrant
     communication exercisesd
born with cognitive developmental delays
     in sundry dis guised,

whose academic weakness qualified her since birth -
     or soon thereafter meta morph a sized
to receive intervention to allow, enable
     and provide her with life skills
     even though patience thoroughly utilized

so she can become self reliant as an adult
thus bringing this papa aegis
of said progeny prances carefree like a colt
and via exposure therapy

     comfort zones, convince this dadaist dolt
magic touch, sans young women,
     (who seem prominent in social service field)
     bear witness as thy Punim doth molt

blindsiding actions of tender loving care
these myopic eyes
     with hypnotic trance observe flair
ring results conjuring up illusions of grandeur
     spurring commendable utterance
     of touche...here here

but self consciousness kept gleeful outburst
     under lock and key lest detriment comb near
compromising instructional progress,
     that could easily dis ap pear
     into a sinkhole forsaking requisite basic skills
     reinforcement ever since first year

youngest progeny Shana Aubrey Harris did need
recipient (thine offspring)
     received private lessons to help her lead
a supposed "normal" life,
     thus this biological papa did heed
and amenable, lovable, valuable rudiments
     of classroom ABC's a challenging deed

for thee lass aye helped beget, yet
a quiet riotous soiree
     along information super highway got set
     within my imagination
achingly longing to compose a poem
     for this righteous dignified dame whose net

whose, incalculable interpersonal worth
voiced melodically ineluctably seduced, sans mirth
and athletic physique
     goaded this married father

to attempt some organization awakened image (to be,
     or not to be dwelling) within remote hamlet
     with rustic cabin crackling hearth
dormant libido (bereft within marriage)
     toward some unknown outcome,

     yet how grand to parlay pregnant girth
without intent to convey any further details
     cuz message of unequivocal charm
minus additional intent for physical interaction
   brought joie de vivre deliverance on this Earth.
Former CIA Director
John Brennan scathing headlines
Washington Post op-ed sharply
published critical accusations

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

backslapping backstabbing
blacklisting bromides,
besetting basic bestowed blooming,
Bobbitizing bedeviling beneficial
bulwark bereft badinage, ballistically ballooning
betrayal birthing bedlam.
Yenson Nov 2019
The Milliband brothers inherited over two million
Mr Blair and his family are worth over twenty million
when the old Mr Denis Healey died his estate was five million

former Labour MP Lord Watts attacked  Mr Corbyn’s inner circle as “the London-centric hard left political class who sit around in their £1m mansions eating their croissants at breakfast and seeking to lay the foundations for a socialist revolution.”

According to research produced by the Tories the new £1,000 membership fee would apply to former leader Ed Miliband with a £2.5m house in Dartford Park, London and his ex-deputy Harriet Harman who owns a £2.3m house in Dulwich.

While shadow international development secretary Diane Abbott owns a £1m pad in Hackney and shadow defence secretary Emily Thornberry has a £3m home in Islington.

Wealthy Labour members of Mr Corbyn’s inner circle include his chief aide Seumas Milne who has a £1.5m house in Richmond, shadow foreign secretary Hilary Benn with a £3m house in Chiswick and shadow justice secretary Lord Faulkner with a £17.5m mansion in Westminster.

An African man from a Country where one British pounds equals
N#450.00 is considered an Elitist despite not even having £200

Our great Revolutionary are busy hounding and tormenting Afro-man
Hellbent on ruining his life and driving him to suicide or mad

The Protection Money Racketeers are from the working Classes
they contact their Socialist friends for solidarity when payment
was refused
They all gang up against poor Afro man who has suddenly become
an Elitist, a Leech and a Parasite that deserves to be ruined,

The Leftist and Racketeers launc serious gangstalking Revolution
Character assassination, Public humiliation, harassment, Provocation, hounding, Isolation, Taunts and tormenting is the game

Join in everybody, the Revolution is here, go pick on the Afro man
Go make his life a living Hell, hound him to death

He is an Elitist, a parasite, a Greedy *******, fleecing the poor
His CRIME? Well he is a Native Customary Prince from Africa
Yes, he's unpaid, No state Income, No Castle or Duchy of Cornwall
That doesn't matter, he black but Blue-blood, that will do
REVOLUTION

This is how Politics work in these days of ours, People
We are the MUGS,
It is the era of DISRUPTION and blindsiding the people
VOTE RED EVERYBODY
Help them buy more CHAMPAGNE for the TOP TABLE and leave
more millions for their children.  

Neon...NEON.... where are you, Oh..you're after the Afro Prince
yeah...good job....REVOLUTION!!!
former Prime Minister Tony Blair with his £8.6m mansion in Westminster, former business secretary Lord Mandelson with an £8m home in Regent’s Park, and the newly-elected MP and former Director of Public Prosecutions Kier Starmer with a £1.4m home in Kentish Town.
Yenson Oct 2021
You don't know me
you know the single story told
the clone of distortion and misrepresentation
the single fabricated story
aimed at all the latent prejudices going
challenging, blindsiding and brainwashing you
the single story that nails hatred in your minds
of someone you don't know
other than how he was misrepresented to you
the single story that talks of greed
rather than the truth of an honest decent hardworking man
the single story
that missed out the envy and jealousy of racist criminals
who were so pained to see a lovely peaceful decent couple
living a happy wholesome life
the racists who saw a lovely flat and later described it as a palace
with hidden treasures
the single story that left out how they started bullying
and doing all kinds of racist passive aggressive ploys to intimidate
the single story that left out twice breaking into their flats
the single story that left out trying to offer ****** favours
in return for more gifts and money
the single story that omitted how hell hath no fury than a woman spurned
the single story that fabricated the one who thinks he's better than us, that fabricated 'the big I am' 'the pompous toff'
all absolutely untrue
the single story that whipped up general hatred, played on fears
and prejudices, broke up a loving relationship and a happy home
ruined careers and turned diligence, hard work and aspiration
into greed
the single story that makes fools of believers
proving that people will always believe what they want to beleive
regardless of the truth
the well crafted single story laced with poison and bile
cooked in malicious dripping evil in slanderous iced pure lies
as befitting professional racist criminals
with all to hide
and guilt, shame, disgrace and ignominy
seeping through every pore
Despite what outside temperature registers
(even absolute zero), the official arrival
of spring occurs, when thee eel hip tic
of coe phish hunt holy Mackerel
becomes tangential to barenaked ladies
barren *** hymn tote,
hoochie mama hottie
presenting strip the willow
ova troop of foxy budding
******* nymphs

analogous to motley crew
despite crowded house,
where masterbaiting anglers
blindsiding naive prey
snagging hook, line and sinker
courtesy spanning global network
with marginal kinks
within human league
showcasing webbed wide
electric light orca straw.

No burlesque across the globe
upstages mother nature's emergent style
soundlessly donning and trumpeting
peeping within nook and cranny
delicate plant and animal feelers probe
resplendent metaphorical pregnant Gaia,
whose all encompassing bulging robe
magnificently, albeit modestly evinces
matronly dame parading and sauntering,
she intimates readiness to give birth
regarding multitudinous flora and fauna,
whereby swath groundswell of color
and panoply of sound bursts forth.

A symphony with terrestrial
ecological community, which life forms abound
via natural laboratory qua nature,
especially at seasonal dawn of spring tide,
where multifarious existence can be found
carving out a figurative zoological niche
in a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds galore
idyllic melodic musical sound
artist palette of rainbow blended sights
assuage auditory and
visual sense pleasures respectively.

No gofundme donation required-
unless ye clamor to proffer expense
(toward fame and fortune
concerning one garden variety
long haired pencil necked geek
to regale sensational experience,
but before further lines get read
please be mindful
to take lock, stock, and barrel
of mine existential sponsor,
thus a brief plugged statement to:

ɢɛȶ ʟɨʄɛʟօƈӄ ɨɖɛռȶɨȶʏ ȶɦɛʄȶ քʀ0ȶɛƈȶɨ0ռ ʄ0ʀ ʟɛֆֆ.

Now back to regularly scheduled program
trying to entrance ye dear reader
incorporating titanic and tectonic processes,
(albeit all natural wonders)
constituting eight ways
to build strong bodies
bred courtesy punctuated equilibrium
nudging advantages to outvie
one living thing
versus another organism.

Winter of our (collective) discontent
(novel of the same name
by the storied John Steinbeck)
alleviated courtesy pagan earth goddesses
prestidigitation delivering cathartic holistic
and poetic botanical balms,
which salve (age long in the tooth)
psychological wounds.

Show stopping stunning performance
stills lovers embrace
long anticipating nonpareil experience,
nevertheless straining credulity
of visual and aural senses,
where collective awed pinterests
silences onlookers evoking
masterpiece rendered still life
among webbed plant and animal species.

Earthy, ******* clad, bombshell nubile
babes, brazen lee, ineluctably, innocently
insouciantly, prominently, promotes pro
pry eh tarry, plus risqué provocative proxy,
trigger numb matt trick functions, as nymphs
doth seductively saunter to approach ever
so close, yet never crosses mine orbit,

but unknowingly teases (like a firecat,
when catch bull struck four), my test
toss tee roan needle swings wildly in
due sing this ordinary system of a down
mellow male to feel doubly breasted,
hair reed kinkily, tongue mortise tenon
facilitating flagellated fortuitous forays,

go win for inflected miniature escarpment,
where groaning pinkish tulips anchored
right at the estuary (nee slippery sluice),
sans self cleaning coven at the intersection
of happy and healthy, heavens to Betsy
bursting provocative cadenzas whence,
mine skipping heart beats long and fosters

fertilizing fecund fresh field, forthwith
fallow paean seeds of life and White Lily
deemed to dein nouns verb
hot ten fruit, no matter
huck cull berry finis wrought twig
and berries sounding off a snap,
crackle and pop goes ma little weasel.
Kickstarting Expungement Father Incurred

Within a sea futility aye wallow
riptides exemplifies sorrows
drowning me into undertow
bitter aftertaste hogties ability
to make headway, and shuck off tow

warring internal strife at this stage
of my life mein kampf,
a failed one man show
so many instances, I didst wade
into abortive oarless row
well nigh impossible to affect

equitable fair family status quo,
nonetheless an opportunity to wax po'
whet tick, sans saturated
noggin of this primate
doth horrendously overflow
wing with yesterday's

defiant spite gives no
mercy now as looming grim reaper
ready to scythe,
and unforgivingly mow
soul of this sole sun,
doth somberly bell low

mine hounded conscience
comeuppance in the know
suctioning all oxygen vacuums
the being of this generic joe
king pawn's ability
to breathe with every inflow

and exhalation of air analogous
a tsunami of sentiments
blindsiding every hello
jaggedly relentlessly shearing,
punishing, and cleaving
nocturnally visible dayglow

mine conscience rip
snorting to and fro
upon psyches of
parents, siblings emo
ting tender loving

care, and in exchange
courtesy of this (doughless) bro
two sisters, (who twisted
with frustration), decades ago
grown daughters and self!
No matter yours truly
(potential rising star -
analogous to ascending yeast)
bred for easy street
life of po' witless
mendicant nimbly,

pointlessly, and rhythmically
shuffles (think *****)
along his poetic little feet
garden variety beastie boy
aimlessly, fortuitously, halfheartedly,
and mindlessly follows

one after another backstreet
revisiting, reminiscing, and relegating
lofty mollycoddled station bittersweet
birthright fame and fortune
teasingly did greet

finding twenty first century hobo
shack hulled with poverty
(think dirt poor),
I shoe cannot defeat,
which accursed fate socked yours truly,

where one after another failure did beat
once unassailable esprit de corps
near ready and willing to meet
exalted, fabled, gilded... seat
but woeful naiveté tricked with deceit

mine childlike innocence dripping effete
characteristics easily swindled for Pete
sakes since... young manhood, now wizened
old looking schnorrer marveling,
imagining, envisioning aggregating riches

coaxing, forming, hatching...
liaisons particularly romantically discrete
lavishing untold money during heat
of passion oblivious,
how ingénues with sweet
enticingly, ineluctably, luridly, beckoned

eventually no exit and other ploys
playfully blindsiding me with
one after another promiscuous tweet
barricades no exit wrought
with razor wire and concrete.
At 1330 hours (indicated
courtesy notification slipped under door
less than twenty four hours)
hence foretold ill fate
by property (crooks and quade) management
the head honcho zaftig, ******,
(who replaced the warden)

and Rich (BOLD FACE
text mode) the snitch
at Highland Manor Apartments
re: looming eviction implication
cuz yours truly and the missus
out of compliance
namely unkempt living space
within the walls of apartment b44.

after residing within
said low income facility
going on six years July first
two thousand and twenty three,
we experienced ongoing contention here,
which palpable tension
crackles, pops, and snaps
across the webbed wide world.

Courtesy social media platforms
in tandem with reputable poetry websites
allows, enables and provides
analogous soapbox to vent
after above identified triumvirate
done scrutinizing, interrogating, castigating...

Me and the missus
immediately sprung into action
rather each of our separate nervous systems
underwent uncontrollable bouts
of expansion and contraction,
(where we both
made a beeline for the bathroom)
analogous to severe toothache
necessitating oral surgeon extraction.

One month later - March seventeenth
signals the re: visitation of inquisition
(cue ominous music)
obscure artificial illumination
looming dark shadows
presaging worse fate than death
rivaling close encounters of the third kind
outer limits of the twilight zone
monstrous sinister forbidding shapes
blotting sunlight plunging
highland manor apartment in total darkness.

Hence aforementioned feeble SOS
cuz our rented one bedroom unit
b44 not in ship shape,
thus me and the wife
not happy campers
possibly forced to live in a tent
among bunch of other homeless people
along skidrow,
thus fruitless effort to yield
and appeal to top banana
figuratively precariously perched
on horns of dilemma

spurred me to posit supposition,
whereby sympathy for the devil witnesses
greater likelihood versus wordsmith
unsuccessfully, nevertheless creatively
blindsiding anonymous readers
spellbound to empty ***** nilly
bajillions of dollars
from their pocketbooks
and mail blank checks to yours truly
before coming to their collective
sense and sensibility bound
with pride and prejudice.

The following paragraphs yielded after Google search undertaken to elucidate reader with (our) low income housing facility.

Section 515 Rural Rental Housing
This property has received funding in part through the Section 515 Rural Rental Housing (Section 515) program. Very low, low, and moderate income families, elderly persons, and persons with disabilities are eligible to live at this property. Persons or Families living in substandard housing have priority for tenancy.
Section 521 USDA Rental Assistance
The property participates in the USDA Rural Development Rental Assistance program. This rental subsidy, available only to USDA Section 514, 515 and 516 properties, ensures renters only pay 30% of their adjusted income towards rent. USDA Rural Development Rental Assistance may not be available for all units at this property.
that our apartment unit B44
received thumbs up
meaning that we passed
the grueling, and harrowing yearly inspection
three days ago - May 28th, 2024.

About a week prior,
when notification circulated
(validating horror about to befall us
as averred courtesy the rumor mill)
courtesy requisite yearly inspection
property manager Kathleen Bergen
placed rolled up
printed one page important bulletin
in respective door handle
of each occupied apartment,
where an individual resident
or married couple - like us – lived),

yours truly and the missus
immediately sprung into action
whereby each of one our
separate nervous systems
underwent uncontrollable bouts
triggering violent expansion and contraction,
where we both made simultaneous
beeline for the bathroom
synonymous with severe bout
of irritable bowel syndrome.

Premonitory signals foretold
the approaching day of reckoning
vis a vis ominous hellish havoc
tell tale warnings since the beginning of time,
whereby frightful visitation
of inquisition videlicet triumvirate
would manifest headless horseman,
as a supernatural entity,
representing a past that never dies,
but always haunts the living.

“The headless horseman
supposedly seeks revenge—and a head—
which he thinks unfairly taken from him"
according to one Franz Potter
additionally equally as unwelcome
as one of the feared biblical plagues
id est: Some of these include:
(1) water turning into blood;
(2) frogs and arov (which arrived together;
arov supposedly originally meant

a mixture of creatures that came
to oppress the Egyptians
in the fourth round of the plagues
nobody knows any more,
but usually translated
as flies or wild animals);
(3) a swarm of locusts;
(4) a destructive hailstorm;
(5) an outbreak of cattle disease
(technically the text says “hail” again …

like totally obscuring
artificial or real illumination
hiding looming dark shadows
edging ever closer
portending, presaging, and pummeling
worse fate than death
rivaling close encounters of the third kind
outer limits of the twilight zone
monstrous sinister forbidding shapes
blotting sunlight plunging
highland manor apartment in total darkness.

Our rented one bedroom unit
b44 spruced up in ship shape,
thus me and the wife
cautiously optimistic figurative campers
worse case scenario
possibly find us forced to live in a tent
among bunch of other homeless people
along skidrow,
thus we felt fruitless effort to yield,
and appeal to top banana
who would love nothing better
than to witness mister and missus Harris
precariously perched on horns of dilemma

spurred me to posit supposition,
whereby sympathy for the devil witnesses
battle of pitched forks among towering inferno
greater likelihood versus wordsmith
unsuccessfully, nevertheless creatively
blindsiding anonymous readers
spellbound to empty ***** nilly
bajillions of dollars
from their pocketbooks
and mail blank checks to yours truly
before coming to their collective
sense and sensibility bound with
pride and prejudice.
Entrapment videre licet fiendish
gnarly hustling scheme erector -
sent me to the poor house, where alms
not forthcoming to ease financial affliction,
where yours truly money matters still stymies
ways and means to relocate
to a two bedroom apartment
courtesy low income housing.

Eleven months ago to date,
I fell prey to the wiles of a scam artist,
who initially managed
to hack way into the Macbook Pro
rendering same computer I use now
such that impossible mission
to allow, enable, and provide
any process to be completed.

A gofundme page
once again set up courtesy yours truly,
which honest to goodness attempt
to bolster substantial forsaken funds
(essentially thieving joint
nest egg of mine and the missus)
deftly hawked pack of lies

blindsiding me to surrender
hook, line and sinker
practically snagged and bled out
these lovely bones mine every red cent
squirreled away as a quite paltry
monetary security net.

The spectre and haunting existence
of Harvey Specter
(the alias cyber spatial highway robber)
still riddles the psyche of this joker,
who continues to chide himself,
particularly when realizing
combined lost assets
lock, stock, and barrel meant that though
poor as a Unitarian church mouse,
I can not provide succor

(in the form of American currency)
which penury disallows us
to dole out for our second born
and youngest daughter,
(who at age twenty five
shares an accommodation
in Bend, Oregon -
with another twenty something gal
a bajillion miles
from dear her ole papa and mama -
located in southeastern Pennsylvania)
paternal nor maternal capital to ease
her own woebegone challenged situation.

Said unnamed progeny, and her oldest sister
(by about twenty six months difference)
feel shortchanged by parents,
whose bereft checking and savings accounts,
plus truckload of
mental health issues contributed
to a dysfunctional heartache

living poisoned ten year decade of misery.
I admit unintentional grief
heaped upon the souls of deux innocent lives
which two offspring begat
courtesy a virile birth father and fecund mother,
whose joint home economic pennilessness
(even prior to letting the pang of procreation
run to sow wild oats)
set at least one figurative strike against us
when embarking to journey
(as a super tramping foreigner)
upon the family way.

Utopia for wretched wordsmith
would constitute enough disposable income
to relocate within a place like Lake Wobegon
"Where the women are strong,
the men are good looking,
and all the children are above average."

Its city motto is "Sumus Quod Sumus"
("We are what we are").
Yenson Aug 2020
It's so easy burying a conscience
but you will find sooner or later that its not
easy at all hiding the body
for the body of conscience travels with you
neither dead or alive
it becomes your uninvited traveling companion
lingering and playing
peek'a'boo with you at the most inconvenient times
it has the most disturbing habit
of sitting on your chest and making you feel listless
you ignore it till you realize
you are now living in distractions and foggy blindsiding
hiding amongst others
talking, laughing more even dancing like none's watching
but inside a body remains in situe
and there it will stay gnawing away days, weeks, months, years
yes, it's so easy burying your conscience
but in time you will find that your life is being lived by a body
that has evicted the real you
and if people look deep enough into your eyes they will a barren husk
but worry not for the world is full of barren husks never at peace within
its the story of our world and the lives of your days with a price to be paid
unabashedly dole out unadulterated
indirect flattery to a porcelain moon goddess.

I found myself figuratively
falling head over heels
inexplicably, cuz courtesy the website
Prose | A virtual community
of readers and writers,
an attractively enchanting female participant 
unwittingly, unsuspectingly and unknowingly
triggered the writer
of these words to become beguiled
and emblazon the sentence
mein kampf and hard times
(ambiguous coded message)
to further an electronic exchange
of mutually assured emotional construction
inadvertently, inextricably, and inordinately
bending, forging, and nudging our lives to coincide
with a mutually profound realm
of hidden cerebrally ******* treasure,
not unlike an archeologist
accidentally stumbling upon a rare discovery
of unknown persons
(recording stone age arousal
of fondling buttucks of babe in the woods),
who trod across the terra firma
across the lunar landscape
when **** sapiens
merely consisted of
scattered and vulnerable tribes
analogous to any other animal
seeking basic instinct
for ultimate procreation of race
likened to the Gibbs brothers
titled song Stayin' Alive
courtesy survival of the fittest.

Hopefully herewith
a genuine amorous proposition
as the modus operandi
to reciprocate thru cyberspace
will at the least provoke a mild chuckle,
whereby I can envision upturned smile on her face
imagining definite essence of beauty to interlace
slender fingers, while I best dismiss rash fantasy
of any substantial tactile expressions of affection
simply predicated upon infatuation
grown from approximately
a half dozen positive acknowledgements
expressing pleasure at reading my postings, 
whence immediate and uncontrollable lust
burst forth like a giant fountainhead
a minor inconvenience Atlas shrugged
toward a lovely specimen of the fairer ***,
which faux pas will most likely
seal fate against further discourse,
nevertheless sentiments spill forth unbridled
blindingly, and sheepishly guiding me toward 
a veritable stranger, though if these eyes
chanced to be blessed
with even a single cursory glance,
no doubt she would look -
obvious dissimilar constituting a generic gal
cuz espied genuine
incorporeal karmic manifestation
would immediately exhibit
the epitome of elegance and good taste
though already penultimate
consummation of actual ******* doth outpace
rhyme or reason, and logical positivism
dictating ditching broadcasting assiduous fantasy,
plus such juvenile premature ejaculations
(unsuitable to a casual
boyish looking sexagenarian),
who like a fool rushes off,
where angels fear to tread
expressing amorousness,
cuz downplaying the necessity
of erecting respectable
initial trusting platonic friendship
and preliminary stages of casual familiarity
reinforcing initial intuition
nullified thru the Internet,
which mecca for social media platforms
dispenses with conventional established paradigm,
and promulgates instant gratification
blindsiding rational behavior
aptly crafted with the storied novel
by the late writer Tom Wolfe
when he coined the phrase
"Old rotten Gotham
sinking/slinking into the behavioral sink"
a metaphorical phrase
that describes the city of Gotham
(from Batman comics)
as being in a state of extreme
social decay and decline,
where overpopulation, stress,
and lack of resources leading to widespread
societal breakdown and dysfunctional behavior,
much like the concept of a "behavioral sink"
observed in animal studies
where overcrowding causes
erratic and destructive behaviors.

My humblest apology for scattershot thoughts,
cuz I quickly dashed off the above
cuz the missus wants time on our only laptop,
a MacBook Pro (Retina, 15-inch, Mid 2015).

— The End —