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Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
Let's get some sunlight
Let's start a bar fight
We'll take our problems and forget we have to solve them
Let's take two tabs
Let's start a **** lab
We'll cover up insecurity with promiscuity

Let's sleep 'til Sunday
It's only Monday
I have to work at 2 but I think I have the bird flu
Let's call the drug store
Ask for a couple more
Insignificant reality crashes into banality  

Let's make a hash pipe
Out of Brite Lites
We'll quote Pulp Fiction with Ezekiel's conviction
Let's start a fight club
Where we can make love
Punch me in the ear and then I'll disappear

Let's start a new life
But after midnight
There's a whole universe waiting to be uncovered first
Let's make a difference
Let's make new friends
Let's go where the wind blows but first I have to put on clothes
Lawrence Hall Jul 2018
A Straw Man Accessorized with Exclamation Marks from the Eighth Grade (Rainbow Brite™ © Glitter Optional)

I heard it, dude; it’s part of the nexus!
A floating island as big as Texas!
All made of straws, there in the Pacific!
It’s on the ‘Net, dude, it’s there, specific!

It’s a Russian plot, sponsored by Putin!
It’s on the ‘Net, dude, sure as shootin’!
Them plastic straws will soon bring down the grid!
They **** the whales; they even got a squid!

The science is settled; let’s make some laws:
The source of all evil is them plastic straws!!!!!!!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Steven Hutchison Apr 2014
Stand close to me
I want to remember us
right here
right now
in that dress you’re wearing
in this light
or with a filter
ya, probably with a filter
we will immortalize this moment
in digital eternity
put ourselves in the back pockets
of all our friends
let them see us
we will become stars tonight
and though the skies are full these days
of lite-brite impersonations
I’m certain we will burn into forevers
I haven’t really noticed where we are
let the world fit itself into the top two corners
of our rectangular existence
like it matters anyway
I need to remember us
tomorrow you won’t be here
we won’t be here
wherever here happens to be
tomorrow I will hear myself again
with those lonely songs and cold hands
of an all-too-present reality
I need you to stand close to me
if I look back and see the world in between us
it will look too much like the truth I’m avoiding
tomorrow I will need to convince myself I’m living
and this will be my arm-length testament
there was a time and a place when we were smiling
pushed close together behind nostalgia inducing filters
if we can look convincing tonight
dress ourselves in starlight
block out the world behind us
maybe tomorrow I’ll believe it
shout your picture into my hollows
before the lonesome deepens
I need you in my back pocket
for those days my lonely soul gets wordy
Mike Hauser Mar 2018
She takes the stars up in the sky
And connects their dots at night
Like a giant Etch A Sketch
Her own Galaxy Lite-Brite

Using neon highlighter
All the colors she can find
Drawing close the Cosmos
She closes both her eyes

Adding a bit of the abstract
She changes hands from left to right
On this giant Etch A Sketch
Her own Galaxy Lite-Brite
Matthias Feb 2011
We will meet under the cheesy moon,
And candy stardust.
In a sea of dark chocolate.
Redshift Apr 2013
i remember every carefully constructed smile
that i composed for you
a melody
that i prayed
would snag you.
my eyes crinkled
into rainbow smiles
all their own
plump lips shaped
perfectly
dimples placed
with practice
just in the right spot.
you told me
over and over
"don't look at me like that"
jokingly
"you're destroying me"
you'd say
as you laughed
and smiled back
into mine
i wish i had known then
that every carefully composed smile
was wasted on you
you took my smile
and smiled it at a hundred other girls
you not only stole everything
that had ever made me smile
but you took my lips, too
no more
smiles
all he ever had to offer was plagiarism.
Anais Vionet Feb 2022
You have to admit, the future's looking bright
- with corona seeming to fizzle out a bit, with
cryptocurrency, the metaverse and the futuristic,
kiss-your-sister quality of lab-grown meat to
save the planet - yep, things are looking up.
st64 Aug 2013
yonder wave wants to come on in
can't make it go away
try so hard to chase away
steel reserve



1.
don't come cryin' on yo broken shins
who dat talkin' ova der?
yo muvva just ain't home rite now
take ya scraggy bags
and vamoose outta here

pick up dem rings 'round yo trappin' eyes
      and lasso 'em round dat red fin
tackle yo chapped lips
      afore dem ships fall in yo calyx-cracks
quit dat naggin' *****-mouth
      here, have dis apple, ma piggie
and dems eyes o' yours dat shine so brite
       might as well switch off dat lite
hide dem leather-hands dat look like dry branches
      wat, even da desert don't win dis contest
pack dat stupid head in a box
      der ain't nuttin' inside a see-through noggin
hide dem silly hopes under a hevvy sea
      or bury it under da soles of yo crazi hart
take yo blasted treadin' to some udder place
      some dark mine where dey can use yo help
and all dem purty words on pages yo just lurve a-spewin'
      ain't no party here for fools no more


2.
den, der some funny rhydm 'gainst ma door
pushin' dat big wave
pushin' dat big wave
I'm a-pushing back jest as hard
but dat wrestlin' wave jest a-growin'
keeps a-knockin'
always rockin'
gonna come crashin' rite in

ain't no good wishing, ma beloved darlin'
so many fine dreams
running silent
in dem luvverly veins under yo kick-startin' tongue


yah, yonder waves gonna make a breakthrough
some day...
(mebbe)*




S T, 21 augury 2013
yo yo!
jest a fine, ****** cold day :)

yonder tides'll turn....tides'll turn....it must.

just as some waves must dream on....4now

(shawshank R: 'pressure over time...'     ~  der will come a time :)

“Kites rise highest against the wind, not with it.”
― Winston Churchill






sub-entry: warm smiles

it be a mighty rainy day today
nobody be lookin' up no more

some brave soul out der in dat cold..
wet and tired...down and out

waitin' fer answers dat sure don't come
one day, all will be gettin' dem warm smiles :)
Third Eye Candy Nov 2012
my party hats have been hacking this green ****...
pitching these ill bent ravens and Q-tips
jinxing the midday with famine
and lightning
a brite spot of bother and dead garlands...
hard garters and soft mottoes
murmured in wisdom of dimwits
a false lovely.

needing things kills
and kills often
god ponders yonder as we dismiss...
but taunt.
you gain a third world
to keep your clean mind soiled
in brine
to pickle the pickle
indeed.

and
you haven't any sugar
in your tea.
I'm  Home

I got my own place today
And I did this without you
Turned the key and unlocked the door
And saw the empty rooms

The empty rooms reminded me
That although you wont be here
I'll have a chance to fill the rooms
With memories I'll hold dear

I can paint the walls with colors
Brite and pleasing to my eyes
Cover up past pain and hurt
Now knowing I'll survive

I can look out each new window
Or look in and see the views
And never see a memory
Of the times I spent with you  

I will place my pictures on the walls
Let your memory fade from view
And rearrange my future
To allow for something new

This new place I have will be my home
Where new memories will be made
It all began when I turned the key
As I walked in today

I'm Home
I'm Home


Carl Joseph Roberts 
I tried to show the emotion and hurt and at the same time the healing. I also wanted to stay true to both the physical as well as the emotionaal move.
Geno Cattouse Oct 2014
Love listening to loose lips
Slowly sinking ships.
****** Babble from the rabble
Rousers. Staining their trousers.
All lite and brite.
All nite can't act rite
A rusty liquid ooze stain down the temporal side of tin gilded craniums.
Group think
Ramant
Me as fly on the ceiling.
Them as fembots reeling.
Wielding well honed scalpels
Between scapula. Smiling in faces.
Smearing feces.right left and center.
Enter at your peril.
Me.
I'm just a squirrel
Trying
To get
A nut.
Emily Foster Nov 2013
Deutschland
So many countries
der Deutsche die Deutsche
So viele Nationalitäten

All meant for memorization
Großbritannien
as if
der Brite die Britin
students are
Schottland
Robots
der Schotte die Schottin

But hey
die Schweiz
at least
der Schweizer die Schweizerin
I now know
Luxemburg
them all
der Luxemburger die Luxemburgerin
in German.
David Nelson Jun 2010
I Hate My Friggin Isp

I hate my friggin, ISP,
     it's a source, of aggravation
down for this, or down for that,
     satellite is in, wrong constellation
the sun's too far, or it's too brite,
     can't seem to find, the moon tonite
that piece attached, on the left,
     should have been put, on the right

Yes my ISP is a royal pain, I'm sure that you know
but you see it's always the same, no matter where you go

gave a call, said they'd be here,
     if not today, then real soon
said can you please, be a little clearer,
     same old song, with a different tune
so hot today, got jobs stacked high,
     gee I'm sitting here, wondering why
excuse me sir, but I have to go now,
     it's time for lunch, gonna eat me some pie  

Yes my ISP is a royal pain I'm sure that you know
but it's always the same no matter where you go    

two days later, this guy shows up,
     says I'm here, to fix you good
studies his diagram, I says hey, wus up,
     somethings wrong, doesn't look like it should
you gotta be kiddin me, are you nuts,
     don't understand, how could this be
let me look more, while I smoke some butts,
     then I'll have to call it in, while I watch TV

Yes my ISP is a royal pain I'm sure that you know
but it's always the same no matter where you go  

Gomer LePoet...
James Alai Feb 2016
Hurt
What a bad word
Worse then ****
Rip my heart out, it bleeds anyway
I'm gonna pack my **** and go
Down the road. To a place where a man can drown his woes.
The fluorescent Bud sign shines brite tonight.
I walk in.
Gimme a shot
And another.
Maybe one more.
I wanna see double and feel nothing
Cause I'm full of hurt
I'm torn apart
and that black hole in my chest is spinning
I'm sllluurriing my words
The ground feels crooked. Its at an angle.
I catch myself from falling
People are staring at me.
Don't look at me like that. Who the **** do you think you are?
You can all go to hell for all I care
Just as long as I got something to sip on
Or some hole to feel warm in
Or some stranger to wake up with.
I don't care.
I am full of hurt
I'm gonna take my **** and go
And on to the next one.
Ken Pepiton May 2023
as I nearly slept, I nearly
rolled over in my bed, did not,
folded my hands, slumbered on
dreamlessly imagining signals hmmms
Massive
low
notes, accepted as receptible
by my phone with no reply request
acknowledge
accusatory story…, here, I see, okeh

Each sapien sapience, from the womb,
to final dust, despite the mounds of mud,

and opera, werks, shunning sweat,
rear up any child in the way one wishes
that child to grow, see, noble king
one must see those things one wishes
were true,
then rule,
be the head of state itself, the wedom
of all the subjective class, objects
deemed worthless but by thy
grrrace, grunting there is a hell. there is, there is
as it is said Christians must believe,
having as one prays, even now,
those needs, cast off all care,
imagine all debts, all paid,
no offering to prove it
needed, only be
left to see your own way, open eyes, a bitter taste,
aftertaste of wisdom, used as in a spirtual duel,
with a passle of powerful fools, unaware
of the rules, anointed, by truth, dare
prove all things, challenge
the persuader, offer bitter herbs with salt.
Salivate conditioned reflex,
some day all your enemies
feel your own self made up form of love,
and that loving burns their evil minds,
to useful illuminosity, before
catch, grip. holf if, see
ante-cipitates, make each look up,
pledge the believers every day,
good
to go,
so in time, as stages pass,
one knows, this is what my hand
has found to do.

In your service dear reader, thus far,
in our momentary now reality,
between our shared unreal pasts,
in the bubble of we, the people of earth,
attempting to buy the world a coke,
since a certain series of orange acid
during February and March, 1970-
- Chicago. Kesey and Wolfe
- fine weather, for a few days in March

ping vid mind adapts, yes, we re
member seeing something so close
to that exact day at that exact spot,
and the weather
was way worse.

but then I he(a)rd the songs of Mao,
being mys-tried, re sung once more as if
each line was free of debt to Lao Tze
no wei, no secret sacrosanction.
dedeMao, now.
b'n ice geeye ai ai - feel the power
lust right, the drill
will to…
w8
Impulse to cut and run, see a message,
make it stick to the bumper of your cat. Cat.
Tell the world what you are
catalogical,
sorted by did you not wish you knew
rearview, how much of that
do you know,
do you know once, we remember

I did, feel a signal, listen,
think I speak mammoth, listen

in fact, we all did, at the time,
we project that as impossible to prove\
reproof of construe-ition is the way of life
instruction in right use, upgrade scales
praxis co-knowing our each selfish in a
we as a wedom, awesome
by the way life lingers
on topological math,
see,
below the actual band width
of light, white
in the middle see the bones
of the bits, those are from stars,
photons ping touch /percepticons
see-ing
opposition in the future, met today,
hey hey hey
tell me what I say,
that ain't no way to pray,
I done said to each, ever lasting
misconcieved grand spirit of a movement
when the guts of goodnessakesknowswhat
is clogged in curses,
generational debt,
the ruler mind set,
to rob the rich, I was led,
daily I watched the Adventures
of Robin Hood, while I only saw Dragnet
once each week,
ethics of each occur in all boomers, as a wedom,
the first generation born after 1945,
sorted by standardized Dewey measures
of progress. toward becoming
community minded boys and girls,
destined to bring tomorrow by conforming
to the systematized sorting, grading on math
and language arts, then history and science,
then juris prudence for civilians, duty,
- team player drills daily, 40 minutes,
- extracurricular activity choices, weighed

current deception opens green receptors
for signals
to me sent, presently as a gift,
from the queen
of the south.

We assume the idea of gifts, tributes
to k'ki'kn'no'ings, legendary models,
magi conquerors who kept the roads free
of theives and babblers
of goodness only, used as sacramental
kindness made sacred,
bidding you have a mighty fine day.

- is that the Power Farm?
- Circa 1989, HyperCard, crazy easy coding.
- But not so easy as now, finally, harmony,
- knowledge was never what divided
- truth from multitudes of witnesses,
- globally aware more mass shooting than days
- to share with former saints in 2023, so far…
All ye
Religious spirits, little impulsive crossing, muttering
thankyou to the unknown god, higher power, el ultimo.

You know, Wisdom herself, given her due, trueee baby,
too true, knowledge is power, wisdom is might,
stand up, right, perpindicular to the true balance,
prepared, made ready to use thoughts abound,
and turn you around
on a low pressure gyre, rolling up Tornado Alley,
as you imagine it all connects.

It's that hard rain, the poets called,
a seeing from the old'ns,
son, ya got a good eye,

never hesitate to wink, and think, I can see,
should I ever need to give up an eye
for my life's comfortable ends, in mind, my
days of rest --ha, these, after a spectacular

reexamination of metaphors filled with crud,
as seen in plastic sacks of potatoes,
left to sprout and rot, in the dark,
not the slightest snakey lick
of seeing with infra-red, in your head, augmental
conjoining
click… serious speed of recognition instant
cognosis,
we both know, like in a Romcom, how- to movie,
shaping mindsets to put on while in rut.

Historically Christian Nationalist Roots, Cowboy way,
circa the informational slots we slipped by, ran away,

one bought a carnival, one bought charisma seeking,
one bought a vision
through the future to right now. Eh.

How oft must one reset such knowns as nouns,
and names of action words, love, fear, hate, lie, die

Did your mindset bid you challenge

Since 2016, I have my word, I swore, with fervor,
once more eternal hostility
to any form
of tyranny {outside-will control} ever imposed
upon the mind
of mankind, wombed or un, however we be
physically, there is none of that in Christ,
believe your rules of rights use.
Examine the faith that being apes,
who could signal names of things, Adamkind,
pre functional womb model.

He could name things, he could not make babies.
Adamkind, warrior breeds from olden days,
such as fight to entertain the mob in waiting,
fans for flames, founders kenning use
of passionate inflamation to provoke
good works, in the mind of the mob,

vicarious sons of deceiving reasons, come
to call my use of faith proves nothing real.

There are made men using God's name, in vain,
eh, it never works, but it is their religious duty
to think kingly, eh,
too ghuckingoodforoneself, we, Trumpians.
We believe,
we never imagine a war we can't make.

Or a set of actual conspiratorial winds,
with names, familiar spirits, returning winds,
infested with Saharan dust, where once were lush
gardens, back when Greenland was green,
or, so I heard/

Bham harumpharump feel the answer,
pick up the combover, so cool, no care, unaware,

- exposed to the expert in this warfare,
- symbolic marvelous armour,
- for pulling down strongholds, castles,
- silicon solid state preservation cast away
- war in the spirit with historical daemons,
- meeting the neo-Manicheans, word for word…
Ai ai, sir, yessir.
We won a mindtimespace precedent mind state writ,
with the entire child of Arpanet, my second wit,
ready writer motto,
use knowledge right, criticize your story,
sift solidity through cellular security,
finest flakes of self assurance, shine
on
and on as
knowns evil or good.. only the priest can call
foul or fair, there,
excuse you, lawyer
for the defense that there is no vicarage, no live
embodiment
of the intercessor between,
truth's way through life,
and the common dominion
of a certainty,
Your MOTHER IS
BY GOD, ALL CURSES, SHE's

the reason
for your father's rage, generational curses,
daddy wounds,
mommy deprivation, post partum. chaos

love, assuage
woe, soorry, Jesus. But, as has been widely
reported the business
of religion,
by exposing truth
pays a visible wage, shiny smile,
U joint versify,

if we may,
play in the code of life, past any inkling fear
of death,
ducks
in order, will and testament cleared,
read already, ready
to oppose, I suppose, am I.
Logically a state of mind, at the moment.

I callt the efficacy of faith
to call all the outs in.

So we see them on TV, they everywhere,
other people,
OH GOD, why must there be
other people,
oh, my, we may agree,
this answers that,
reasoning, by active faith,
usualized, made common sense.
Why would any sane lover of truth god,
create a forever for enemies of lies?
Belief in spirits opposing truth,
metaphors abound, Kriegspiel on coke,
the real thing, viewers imagine,
watching all the nobles
become naked, and as ugly as any among us.
We see the chins and hairlines in horses,
yet neglect to notice, mustang
herd management, as traits
adjust to new standards,
wild life reset to order.
We realize the riddle,
is the reason, we feel foolish and know it,
U knew, not me, forethought,
morphically resonating
peace, as on a gong
gone
normative,
adjustment bureau wise
sinner's bound in a doctrine
- cut to the gist, there is no sting in death.
- and teaching children to fear death is abuse
- of right authority granted parents
- of loved children, chosen ones, olden days.
Legendary warrior mind, allowed, only if
initiation allows exposure

the daysman lack-
no, look crosswise,'
stripes, whistle, dude
-see, there, the excuse, Job ttalked back.
And Yah, he say, you know, you got that right.
Heysus hisself, look at me he say, I'll go,

become the logical conclusion,
to a story where there was a flaw,
and time threatened to run out, but
the hero, ready to become the tool
to answer a malignant liar with his religion.
Job said to Yah,
you do not know how it feels to put on
a carnal  mind, set by God in Atom's right
to be first
to say this is that…
and one thing leads to another
- you feel the power without knowing
Mysteriously, you,
suddenly seem shy, thinking
how can I say what this is,
you have no right
to say a name Adam did not
say first, we say ****, you say poo,
******* artistic instinkty ways to say, not what
goes in,
corrupts, but what comes out sure can,
that's
gnosishit trustatistical fact according
to science
scent, pre
yours it stinks to, Jesus said.
Brush y'teeth, with Pepsodent to night, be
brite
- visible
knowledge is all good see, so we say we say
good riddle. fit for a king
prone to seek an interpreter of signs and sigils.

A trained cadre of bright boys, as runners,
or senders,
senders using drum and fife, to lead,
trumpet to send, and banners,
to rally round on our side,
whose sigil is that? Do we aid or raid
the edges, scavenge strategy
from the dead.
Live to tell, as I the lone survivor,
I who slew the king at his request, please
believe me
I never steer you to wrong.

Letters flow qwerty wise,
let it happen in the fingers fit to the task,

take a little walk, listen
to a story, sit a while and wish the
enemy were here to enjoy the ease,
beyond the bliss of ignoring,
past the weight worth standing under,
to the home imagined right in time
to finish in December, 2021, one thing
done.

Search any phrase of life, and find answers
to unasked questions, regard-iding lying done
id est as when it is, totally Scriptural moral- wise
right in such a time as once

when some liars who held fast to prophesy
hired the guy who rode the wild ***,
which cognosisadictattenti sorts say
the darnedest things, strecht
stitch in time
Art of Linking Letters, Art Linkletter,
as regular a lunchtime mind flush with a chuckle
and nod at the secrets children can
claim to publicly believe, but ….

the link was to the stay-at-home mom,
not her peer's latch-key kids in allegiance prep,
who get home each day,
for a solo home run heads up on,

who did what on the news, since last night.
Wait, when did Kid Parrett buy the farm,
for more lasting fame than many
in the game, of vicarious triggerers of revenge
reaction, action ready
wha, wham
I a,am sh…za'am is a real rebbiwort, glaubtgut
Jesus
do u read Seuss, still, a quest, mark, take,
leave, ask best bet, take
chance…
look away. Beulah land,
then Beulah see, wise black nanny guide from non-
nodded off, witty, pretty sweety Mary
poppin' clap off pop
stand and deliver, let it be
sistarepistol packin' mama, whoa
Sister,
I did not think to ask, have you been this far? Before?
993 maybe, but the next seven are done. I am stopping, long enough,
to make some money some how... eee-odle eee dee hee,
I may be back again by summer.
JDK Feb 2015
This is bigger than You and Me.
This is about more than just poetry.
This is a clash of ideologies.
This is a battle of philosophies.

People are little more than metaphors.
Glass mason jars containing different world views.
Tinted different hues. Some are translucent and some are opaque.
If I'm solid umber than you're clear blue,
but this is bigger than Me and You.

This is larger than Us vs Them.
This is beyond Nature vs Nurture.
This is a blessing in disguise.
This is torture.

People are little more than metaphors.
Multicolored jars with their lids half-******* off
containing different liquids that taste like world views.
If mine is bitter than yours is sweet,
but this is bigger than You and Me.

This is about technology.
The effects of social media on humanity.
In the future, we'll attend parties in virtual reality.
Nobody will drive home drunk
and there'll be no fear of catching an STD.
My sisters won't have to worry and your mother won't make a fuss,
but this is bigger than all of us.

This is the search for an answer to the question that has always plagued Man.
This is the middle ground between the Beginning and the End.
This is the Herald of Passion and Love's Last Stand.
This is more than we can comprehend.
This is beyond everything.
This is no man's land.

People are seldom more than metaphors.
If I'm climbing out the window then you're knocking on the door.
If you're progress then I'm a Luddite.
If I'm a lot less then you're a little more.
If I'm an Erectors set then you're a Lite Brite.
If you're still a ****** then I'm not a *****.

The animal kingdom seems to know better.
You don't see birds of paradise plucking out their own feathers.
You never see a lion shaving off his mane.
Though the male mantis goes willingly to his own demise,
one wouldn't call him insane.
He doesn't fight his basic instincts.
He knows exactly what to do.
I have no idea what I'm doing,
but this isn't about me or you.

We're just metaphors.
Hardly more than similes.
Like abandoned puppies left out in the rain.
Like orphans with no families.
Like tumbleweeds rolling across a barren plain.
Like a mouthful of cavities.
We're like characters from a Greek tragedy;
prideful heroes with cursed destinies.

We're every bad cliche from every over-used plot.
"You're everything I've ever wanted."
"You're everything I'm not."

If I'm coke then you're ***.
If you're cold then I'm hot.
If you're Green Eggs and Ham then Sam I Am.
If you're Katherine Hepburn then I'm Humphrey Bogart.
If you're Ilsa Lund then I'm Rick Blaine.
If you're Casablanca then I'm Citizen Kane
If I'm full-blown crazy then you're slightly insane.
If you're speaking directly then hey, I'm just sayin'
We're caught in a web.
One of us is the spider and the other's the fly,
but this is bigger than you and I.

This is a falsified endeavor to find the truth.
This is an exposition on the Feminine Mystique.
This is a journey into uncharted territory, and to go there boldly.
This is a redefinition of what it means to be lonely.
For Madmen Only
Micheal Wolf Mar 2013
Liking or licking hmmm maybe similar
Pain or pane smash one get the other
Steak or stake drive cattle or a post
The English confuses me most
Lite or light, bright or brite
Understanding is all that is write or wright or write
Oh who gives a ****
Philip Finch Oct 2014
he's made it to the leaping-off place
it was a beautiful stroll up
and the wind
    makes hair feel free.

he's made it to the leaping-off place
the sky tides the wispy white dreams
of faraway things
    but the ponderous rote
of the dirt
    binds him and bids him delay.

and he writes—

life looks so good in green, friend
a feet-light frenzy in polychromatic feelings
white white fingers on a lite-brite brain
pull out the pegs—time to feel insane
    to let it all out.
sunshine rain from your cucumber eyes
if only the littlest drop
will make me whole
    i'll make my soul an impluvium.


the faraway below, and the folded wings
the sun, the moon, and the unimaginable pinpoints
of what wishes are
    everything in the sky and earth
is in his head
    and his hands are empty.

he's made it to the leaping-off place
and grass stains his jeans as he stares
lost in thought
    wondering, pondering in a storm of
lethargy
    the implications of leaving the ground.
1 March 2005
shooshu Dec 2015
Break Tiffany,
girl of the night
Holly go-lightly
pseudonyms delight.
I am catwoman
DC comics brite.
||shoo.shu||
#poetry #inkspilled #girlsofthenight #pseudonyms #alteregos
Erika Soerensen Jan 2017
A rosy-cheeked woman has a Light Brite cradled in her lap.
I see a handsome young man with a missing arm.
On rolls a beautiful paraplegic.

The woman next to me has a real fur coat stuffed in her Nordstrom bag.
I loathe this woman immediately.
A skinny girl across from me has a McDonald's bag full of food.

Three young Asian girls sit together giggling
while the one in the middle takes a selfie -
then the others critique.

A lady standing in the front looks like a fat mouse.

Miss McDonald's is on her 2nd Happy Meal
and fur hag is writing a grocery list upon her knee.
Lots of rare flesh, I'm sure.

The beautiful paraplegic has the token plump lesbian girlfriend
complete with a trendy faux hawk.

I bought Daniel and myself vegan cupcakes for our 6 mos. today.
One is lavender with toasted coconut lime frosting.
I hope he likes it.

Oh, here's my stop.
Until tomorrow....
I found a raggedy old notepad in a box from the past - my writer's notes from the 120 bus when I lived in Seattle.  I thought I'd share the reality.  No edits.
Graff1980 Jan 2016
The silver sliver of a crescent moon
Cringes for its solitary state
Staring longingly into the city

The sky is black cardboard
With white shining holes
Like an old school light brite

Large white moths circle the lamps
Like little suicide bombers
While skeeters stalk and bite me

The night stills to the speed of silence
Even the shadows stand motionless
In fear of disrupting this peaceful repose

The long thin branches
Wave up and down
Saying good by
To that last good night
Light blue sky
Leave the leaves in the tree
Fluttering like spirit fingers

The night passes  
Like the old year
Bringing in
Singing friends
And baby rays of
Sunlight
Going from cool blues
And black skies
To lighter and warmer
Morning colors
JT-TJ Oct 2010
Sun shining brite, on the mountains below.
Light breaking through, on the new fallen snow.
Valleys and foothills, are impressive to me.
His love shines through the clouds, for all to see.

He worked so hard, six days of the week.
For all to live here, and for him we should seek.
The clouds are all floating, along the horizon.
Mountains are black, against the morning dawn.

Trees are all strung, along the mountain side.
They run from the mountains, up to the ocean tide.
The beauty of the mountains, and trees I can see.
But I also know without him, none of this would be.

And so I ask you, to help save planet earth.
None of this would be possible, if not of Jesus' birth.
The birds of the air, and the creatures on land.
We all would be extinct, if not for Gods hand.

And so I ask you, again I make this plea.
Because Jesus is comming, for you and me.
David Nelson May 2013
She Likes to Watch

her eyes are brite
with a smile of love
she is perfect in every sense

the wonder is there
you can see it
in her every movement

she glides on the air
seemingly without a care
like a smooth jazz saxaphone

she warms every heart
she makes every day worthwhile
every night a holiday

the depth of her knowledge
goes beyond any book
it is in her observation

she cannot speak
nor can she hear
but she likes to watch

Gomer LePoet....
special is as special does
whatever you are, allow it
wherever feel creeps, follow it
whenever rage leaks, catch it
ever in your spiral, route it
under your spectroscope
finesse the focus until
your pupils explode
Original Lite-Brite
patterns magnify
stills emerge
inner space
traversed
Eric Apr 2019
mmm... let me think
take a breath , and give my brain a tink
hold on ... let me speak
so ... I'm weak
everything I see , is a slap to the cheek

the days are fine , but your always on my mind
bringing me down , and I feel less then Devine
I know indue time, and all the signs
will bring me back up to the light
and bring me  back to feeling Brite
they tell me it'll be alright

I'm tired of this mask , I can't breath
and I'm asked " how are you?" ...I'm good
but I'm doing worse then I preceive.
these feelings and emotions bleed out of me
every second feels like a eternity .

my days have stopped
and everything is unfamiliar
since my heart dropped
I wish I understood her
my field is cropped
with no minerals in my dirt
no matter how many seeds on top,
they all just get hurt
never will I gain that crop
it has all stopped

let me reminisce
on the past , that got me all ******
you got me wanting to not exist
and you welcome me not with a hug
but flying fists
luckly you missed
and we fell into each other for our last kiss .
and every bit of the respect , love , trust
was set aflame , ashed up , and dissed
we had a kid " yea we can do this "
then your gone and took everything
even my mattress .
no home , no car , no wife , no kid
still racking my brain for everything that I did

but it's alright , it'll be another quiet night
I'll drink my self to sleep like I do every night
and forget about all of our fights .
some day I'll be alright
even if its somewhere not there holding you tight
I may show wrath apon my self tonight
but my love is yours , unlike any other guy .

And I still hold tight to the blade that thickens it's might
Dennis Willis Feb 2019
Un
Thus wokout sayeth
the sooth

And we kniw
meent

** rise in
rocks n lines

raint by rays
unknowin

ha this sun
brite

fits in
your tiny
happiness
jar
Sam Jun 2017
I am the streaks of red-green light refracted and reflected in the raindrops on the window of the night bus, hurtling through the city as it sleeps. I am the lonesome hum of a generator in an empty stadium. I am the orange buzz-hiss-buzz of a streetlamp in a quiet parking lot. I am a first kiss, a last dance, a slow sway towards death, a black butterfly ****** into the engine. I am the green fields, seen by aeroplane on descent, bisected by fingers of muddy brown river. I am the pain and the joy of a young girl, the shame and regret of an old man, the flight and the howl of a stray dog. I am the brite-white ice cream clouds, the heavy, hungry ground, and the gaping, gleaming, shimmering, sideways sea.
Graff1980 Nov 2016
I got a multi colored lite brite like memory
that comes and goes slipping pass my past
tripping me up until I switch memory lanes
from fast and slow
letting go then going back
picking a field of lemon and strawberry details.
Till, I can partially recall who I used to be.
Paul Hardwick Sep 2019
Age is a such a special thing
Learning from the past yes it is
You don,t believe
Then read on today

Messing around with my time today

That's what I did today
Sun was out and brite today
Working on cycle show

I was stop 2
Not where they rested there heads
more just like to past though
them people so new

Just catching there breaths
I am  in the woods
Maybe a fly or two but nothing else

For I am security
If I told to say then I do
and believe me noting around me, will go missing

Got all first age training
In my smart Shoes
Polished to a shine so need some shades

Feet so brightening
Bownancing of my eye brows
Then straight in my eyes

It feels so wrong but so right
The rich do this ****
to make us blameless

And Do I LoVe  P@UL.***.
\
SUPA SESH May 2021
Issues stick to my side like fat ***'s and cellulite,
Sorry I'm slow , I miss signs, maybe we need a lite Brite
I don't like being pushed over, Imma argue even if I'm not right
Asking if I still want you over,
"Doesn't matter to me"
Even tho I'm dying to have you here tonight
Mark Bell May 2018
All this rain we are having I brought myself  a gnu
It arrived at my door with out a paddle
I'm thinking what do I do now
so I went a brought brite red saddle.
My aunt died in the night I kept in a box
It got out somehow I flattened it with my sock.
I'm not very good at smelling,
But my pet bee can hum
I like whiting crappie ditties its
Fun fun fun fun fun.
Nurse nurse where are you
I do like to be beside the seaside.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
2022 2:04

the VA Webex conference
future, bogus billable hours, a job,
and something to use old sad men for,

measuring, me re assuring, my more
aggressive conserver of self-will,
trained to lead, since learning to read, DID
that not occur, in each boy's life

dread of the cobalt bomb,
constancy of light speed and pituitary assisted
thought speed,
pinging pong responding, thinking we may
think
along similar lines, so, I
decided,

to find a reason to bring to any reasonings,
I recross, as many of my first reasons
are in a framed loom, with four corners,

that bronze on the map coordinates,
marks nothing, four lines dividing states,
grants given the takers and tamers of the land,

whose sons have gone on to inherit this wind.
Imagine that.
Millions of letters aligned in code to readers
of ascii nada mas this exists in a series of events

solid backups, foolproof, we say CFO proof,
in the pre-Y2K IT game, geek veteran deaf,
high-demand HR,

so much so, mucho mucho, skip the queue
step right up
look achew

gotta tale or a story, is that your's that
you're eating?

Oh, my camera is still on I'm talking to me,
in my perifery
a mete-able bit of time delay,

the in, the way, das sein, dime a time

slip on through, think we may
as well
as any, I'd agree, and off we'd go

wild blue yonder, but that,
was no longer than this two weeks,

less, far less, threaded through now,
the real me in this chair,

in the back ground, one of the service's
perks, choose from these the background,
set and setting, photo director's call

Art's call, talent is a tool, shut up,
Intuit, tweak. Test… fo' won't you shut up see

that's me. On TV, in my easy chair,
on a Federally mandated budgeted service,
to me, that allows me eight easy
pseudo-greenscreens sets, one,
defaulted to my subconscious profile,
I'll assume,
that's me. On TV, in my easy chair,
rocking in floor lit wonder in front of
Gobekli Tepi,

and nobody says a word.
Convergence foreseen in the nineties,
has occurred,
much of this sub-mit-sci-o-usly con meat
mind excuses for war,

well, long ago, it became this game,
few lived so long as to need to know
the patience going gives a slow belly
and a liar.

Dancing at the door of the iliad within,
feel free to think, that me.

The camera is on, in text, seeing me
seeing me glance down, my fingers,
pointing from the mirror, not in the mirror

my face me face, same effect, not mirrored
neurons, my neurons, feeding back

way too late to care, no coda queue for me
that is no monkey in that mirror, that is me.

Tvme offers me his right as I offer mine,
omagod that's me. On TV, in my easy chair,

this never gets old, this phase on one of these
fridays, I can do one of these groups.
with some pretty sad sacks, when seen on TV,
I fit right in, with
Gobekli Tepi, floorlit, pre-roof

Real as can be imagined, this world
common old men, commonly share
live talking head time, everybit as
trustworthy as Kronkite spelled with a c.

The c at the center of we in time where u
find sounds form some things that seem ok
if a crow caw does mean something, only that
I heard you, ok, did you hear me I don't know.

That may be life's most enjoyable time
for any idle thought poured into a word,
there, breathe, you have it, I read, read
I said, I can.

I can tell you, partly, how I came to know
I can read:

We lived behind the courthouse
with the machine gun from world war one
and absolutely olympish champs from
army navy and marines, over there
over there,
across my street, is the lawn I play on,
over there,
over there, is the jail for drunk injuns
over there is where I learned the audience

reaction to a Hualapai child, being
evangelized, he was in a mob of snot nose,
rez kids, in the nineties, eh, think about it,

this kid in the crowd looks at me,
and my stunningly ebullient zealous wife,
he says,
my grandpa has never been in jail,
and I think
my grandkids won't be proud of that.

And I'm kinda proud to think of that,
as a test, love your neighbor as clause…

that part you work out, some days amaze,
some days,
right back in the maze,
picking up fragments of prayers we made
effective,

sort of, means, sorting idle words for worth,
is what sorting any thing is for, what it's worth,
or what its worth, that difference,

a breath equivalent,' force of mind to think,
after one another then and now, the
whole life on earth is better 2020 wide,

on the layer where nothing we learn is new,
we passed that so long ago in terms of
jellotime and bulletspeed and thought
godspeed in biblical time

using the stacking of the stories for effect,
the honor to the scribes taken from the brite
sons of the weavers and spinners of yarns,
tenders of tavern, need not apply,

ah, but when the Hans were in, we could test,
life was to be examined, prepare to enter

the gate, and wait for results,
life is that test, still
smallest yes voice says.

— The End —