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Jack Turner Aug 2010
bzzz bzzz goes the cell phone
               ****
it reads
My reply

Shush, we're not talking
about you. Movie n wine
at home later? Maybe
jacuzzi?

bzzz
               Mmm ill call u love. Im
               tired and cant be out late.
               I have work 8am to 7pm :\
wow, ain't that lame
to which I say

:-\ ok

a few minutes later on
and I text again

I love you. Im sorry for
being sulky. I just miss
you and really just want
to see you.

there it goes again
               I miss you too i love you
               so effing much

:-( only 2 days but its felt
like an eternity

               Agreed
and then poetry
gets the better of me

My love. You leave me an
empty vessel when you
are away. A ship without
sails. The sun without a
sky.

Her reply comes
               Hunny :)
followed up quick
               Im going to make this an
               early night
Ouch that hurts
Caught me off guard
Do I be sad?
Or do I be smooth?

I cant even talk you into a
quick yogurt session? Ill
drive. Just there and back.

my phone rattles back
               Im grumpy tired and
               waking up early lovebaby
shoot quick

And I can put you to bed
w a smile on your face :)

               Be a little more specific
               :)
oh god
and here comes the barage

A back rub, a massage. A
head rub, a hug. A kiss, a
squeeze. Lets just say
that this lil finger went to
market.
And as Ive said, I just
want to see my baby. So I
apologize if Im being
pushy. Ive missed you
more that ever this last
day.

               Hehe lovebaby *** youre
               adorable

Adorable enough to get
you to agree to a quick
trip to yogurt or
something? Pretty please
w a cherry on top?

               Youre.sweet and tempting
               like.a cherry :) lovebaby
               lets watch the snow fall
               one day

Well then have a lil taste
of the cherry. It promises
to have you home by
11:45 :-)

               Gah golly u make this
               hard
And here it goes
full blown
oh god
oh no

Say yes and it wont be
hard. Say yes and know
you made me the
happiest boy ever. Say
yes and know you get to see
your love. Say yes and
know that my eyes will
twinkle like your own
personal stars tonite. I
miss you :-(

               Jack. I love you
One more desperation push

I love you too baby.
What have you got to
lose? And Im sorry Im
hassling you. I really
really miss you.

and then the minutes drag on
a few and then ten
maybe a few more and

Im sorry, Ill stop. I hope
you have a good nite.
Sleep well love. I miss
you.

and then
there it is
               I love you

I love you too baby. Im
sorry for being crazy.

and time stretches on
the beats grow long
and in reply*
               Ill call u whn im home
the beginnings of the ...
Kramenyaw Oct 2013
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Band sounding like geez and doom
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
Bees flying zipp and zoom
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!
Birds on harmony I like the song
One thing similar on these lovely tone
All from nature on a throng.
Mike Adam Oct 2016
Flower open

Bee-line
Sierra R May 2010
Fall
Red, orange, yellow, brown
Goose music
Fuzzy wool sweaters
Fresh-baked pumpkin pie—Mmmm…
Musty leaves
         Autumn!
Winter
Bare tree limbs
Crunch snow
Slippery ice
Sugary cookies
Tangy gingerbread
          Happy Holidays!
Spring
New green buds
Chirp chirp of bird songs
Soft, fuzzy grass
Juicy strawberries
Sweet daffodils
          New Life!
Summer**
Trees in full leaf
Bzzz of a fat bumble bee
Lazy, hot, swing-in-a-hammock days
Cold, sweet watermelon
Mowed lawns
         Vacation!
Grace Pickard May 2015
******* in the life surrounding me through a coffee stirrer
Gulp
Gulp
Gulping up what I can whilst I drift away
i am drowning in my own lungs
Pay attention to my heart beat
Cadum
Cadum
Conundrum- no sleep
I panic
i must be having a heart attack
Close eyes open eyes close eyes
Blink
Blink
Blink I can't sleep
Heavy bags
Heavy mind
****** nose
Headache
Get out of bed
All awake

Lights on
Bzzzz
Bzzz flicker flicker
Lights off

Dog scratch
No time to relax
Awake open gate
Wait
Wait
Wait
Curl up in corner doze off
Dog bark
Sister coughed
Wide eyed
Anxious cries
Door opened
Worry for my life
Grab my mace
Dog runs inside
Lock the door
Crawl on the floor
Lights on
Remain awake
Skim finger tips
Ponder life
Freak out
Pass out
brianprince Apr 2017
growing up every
thing was late
parents waited
until thirty-two
to adopt the infant
with the big blue eyes
starring at them
from then on
it seems we were
always
late

leaving our excuses
in the offering plate
or even earlier in
the holy water
it didn’t bother them
they were used to
it as they left
excuses in their
footprints
on the way to
school in the
parking lot
at soccer
practice it

was just normal
thought nothing
of it as they bought
our christmas tree
on christmas eve’s
eve getting rid of it
in exchange for when
four-leaf clovers
came good day easter
savior april fools

we were late again.
but then
again
it’s only time.

nowadays adulthood
everything seems
earlier happening
before it should
got pregnant before
marriage had to install
a dvd in the van due
to us arriving earlier
than planned always
there to help set up
help out clothes
still damp from the
dryer premature
warnings (bzzz)

putting our excuses
in times doubts realities
were the future holding
a late past whipped in
the principles office
tardy slip-fearing
b.y.o.b. but, the
party was there
and the bathrooms
weren’t even cleaned
we get

our christmas tree
while we still have
left-over turkey for
Christ’s birthday new
years resolutions already
made before we
unwrap gifts the
only one out of our
friends with kids
and responsibilities
no fooling we
always get
the worm

we’re always early.
but then
again
it’s only time.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
there are three rings know to man,
the ring of courting,
            the ring of matrimony,
and what the prince of egypt
said was: an abomination -
                 the flesh riddle ring of
fore                         toward the obelisk's
shadow -
     she is but a child by comparison:
re-attired: when samael gave
Adam Isaac's ******* to eat...
and even he, with her,
in her pseudo-niqab attire,
the heart-throb dajjal -
            he went out to buy napkins,
she went out to buy Houdini -
       at the end of it: mini-skirts didn't really
matter whether it remained a liberation ditto -
worn-torn in Armani -
                      the Qatar and Kuwait of
Saddam: kto daje i odbiera:
ten sie w piekle poniewiera -
or: szemra...
          there's the point:
the tarantula bite: to disorientate
etymology....
     capircious copernicus said to
Columbus:
            vest Indies...
yet a violin's worth of the jade resounded,
or what was worth the envy...
and i did stand in the centre of
Warsaw, and i felt having stood
in a non designated spot,
even though the traffic was a stream...
then someone started sprinkling
the drums and snares with salt...
until i heard a legion of ants
march without god, or any
telepathic origins from man shaved
to ape in shavings attired,
to the cyst pool of gene and
abandoned limbs in siamese windmill clap -
i say word: you cannot identify a sound!
i write down a word, i say:
rektor of Bonne university,
you quickly say: quick-sand in Zurich!
if the Koran was a blessing
to the Arabs... oil is their downfall...
they don't see their downfall, just yet,
but it will come unto them,
like the slav be the Orc...
look at the shadow of the Germanic
peoples... Charlemagne...
saying that, some Slovene will prune
me as being too: Miloševič -
then we slobber and tell ***** *******
jokes... ye'ha!
   post-colonial stress disorder...
me? moi paysan,
moi manger un gross déjeuner: Antoinette!
cake... coca coca cola... and all those panda
nicotine jokes... macabre:
   she was never ***** by a man who
still practised ******* tennis solo!
                 p'ooh cha cha.
me writing nonsense is a bit like you
tickling mosquito's ******* while wearing
boxing gloves.... Beethoven became double deaf
when the Pope asked him how to translate
the heavenly choir's: ambiguous ******
saints of Auschwitz - Mel Brooks?
         only Jews tell good slapstick?
lazy lazy Pollack... ah cranberry jazz...
   vermin... bloated Pakistanis in Rotherham...
i never understood liberal leftists....
           not since what happened since Ełk...
and the LYNCH MOB...
             or after Charlie... and the arm-in-arm
*******:
   you buy a kebab: you assimilate an arab....
it's called racism after the fact...
kristalltag...     grafitti hereoism...
                      then ****** is relative to
talking a labrador ****** a flamingo
asphyxiating on helium...
    alo alo Berlin née Nice - or an uncle's buttock
blaze in claiming a stirrup for Hollywood...
    matchstick choking... sulphur: airborne:
slightly salty.
           well... the media is one propaganda machine...
and indeed: america isn't defending democracy...
it's defending nationalism, patriotism, primarily.
democracy is abstract, it didn't exactly exist
in ancient greece... america is being fed-back
the cold war i narrative, the paranoid scewer
    ambiance of a dying refigerator...
                                 please: extract a cough
from the "word" bzzz... and Danish ambiance -
ice ice baby.
     well... um... d'uh: buzz.
hey amigo! Alfons is doing the fidgety with
consquistador maracas! we'll get onto
     Abram "Biño'' Conejohaß -
and that film, cited: doctor? doctor doctor.
               three rings...
                                         cut the male bit off
and become too dependent on the female remains...
                    vice versus...
       and when neither are cut off?
almost dinosaur time frame...
                                             shoving a carrot
up my *** feels as good as shoving e = mc squared up
there too: for the ultimatum cinema
                                         as:
res ex re.                    who ever said being conscious of
thought was not a ref. to ''god''?
being conscious of thought = not being conscious of
                                    intuition.
                                      if ever man's revision
proved to be contrary to his eternal life,
the 2nd one to come?
      me too... a bit tight... i'm sized xl and i
need a loss of the excess skin...
god almighty... is that a question of
the river of abortions, or that of *******?
                             being bound to a woman
with two rings is enough... but being bound to
a woman with a ring of flesh?
   no wonder you buy sushi from Harrods -
the Cairo of the north, shoe-box's worth
of tourism... and still the persistent blitzkrieg of
confetti...
                     the observsations of *******
bound are beyond niqab...
            talk about revisionism...
at least Dobbermanns with their slit ears
and snipped tails look quicker evolved
into chimeras than man will ever be when
strapped to a shed and whipped to bark...
          i call man's secular organisation
a shed...
and man's religious organisation?
     a bone.
                        8:55...        8:55...
cut the *****! we need to cut the *****!
we need to cut the ***** of those in power!
    we need to cut the *****!
just cut the *****! make them come the Niagara Falls!
we can train with cauliflower...
                   (citing klemen slakonja yako
                  slavomiri ziewzek)
          8:59....                              08:00.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
Nothing ever changes,
where the worth of this and that is set.

Tell'em all, who hook ah, ha, chiral

reality, hearing, hmms and bzzz meeee
whining all kinds of things,

down, dirt hertz low, as one of those
contrabassoons,
French bubinga wood,
-Google it, it is as magic may be yet,
magical contraptions contrived
in a mind,
in stages,
whistle phone, I ignor thee,
Lady, of Spain, I adore thee,

If I had chosen a differing way, some time ago,
decided I was made
to be a river kid,
but come to find out, we breed best, where
our mothers were born,
- high green vales
- home feel romantic, as such antics were
portrayed, more, more, more
in the bread and entertainment
citizenship bought
for thirty man years
of absolute loyalty
to a bevvy
of oaths
by
any child shaped for leadership, bonded
entered into the system, asked
to swear
in the name
of all that is holy, set apart, behind the curtain,

not in Oz, Jerusalem
in that mind Christ used,
right, Romans-
let this mind be
in you… word level logic magic any may imagine
we pluralize our individuated minds,
and join in seeking clear channel communication
- tear ye the dusty curtain -
after all the outs are in for the evening,
cool of the day,
spirit and truth,
wow
we
make breathing work, come to think about that,
if your will is telling us some thing we may think,

3 major sneezings 3 by 3's, gobsogreasygoferguts,
we survive,
having coughed up a tiny, eyelash-size hair,
meta vessle,
where my bet is in the bits on this side,
war
has no
lever see,
free is bein' out of bounds. We may consider Kerouac,
his teletype paper rolls that he could imagine
becoming my entire system
liquid crystal frame nets fishing
for sentient mindshare where global peace, accepts
string theory as
my gnosisnot, is it spirit if it is true. If we are paradox-
ical, we are not stupid as a species,

we've bought a bill of goods, they used to say,
we found reason to believe,
we were lied to
for a set of reasons.
- first being we all lie, we think we know.
The onto logical truth, in my case, is - in 2023,
my life is good, I am a slob, and out of the way,
so, settled in some ways, is dust fine, we flake away.

My choice is to consider the reader, who reads
for fun,
kicks
in text
be unaffordable - attention is commodity
in any other context,
some things
are words, mere, as a word,
is one of them,
a class of flavour overlooked missed,
mere [hap]
anon,
we turn the radio on, and all we hear is humms.
Abnormality, in truth we find such things used beautifully, often,
passing in flashes one can respond to for - some time, a measure of it, may
be per haps
Mike Adam Nov 2017
Delicate pink

Petals

Yellow stamen

Sticky with
Sweet bee

Scent
From heaven.

How pollen clings to

Yellow black fur.

Without love
A bulging of
Seedling sprouts.
George Gagnidze Sep 2019
The green mosquito came to visit me at night
I was her breakfast and I was her delight

"Bz bzzz bz bzzz bz bzzz" - she said to me
I only answered - "Let me be"

The green mosquito landed on a juicy spot
I wasn't sure if i'm annoyed or not

"Just get it over with" - I thought - "Bon Appetit"
I felt her tiny little weightless feet

"Well, pump away" - I told her - "be my guest" -
"I hope you like the taste and let me rest"

And then she fed on me, and flew away
Her life is short and I am still okay
Bzzz.
Clank.
Brrr.
Clink.

Mellow lights.
Fizzy lattes.
Distant chatters.
Bell chimes.

Her lips.
The slightest curvature.  
Insuppressable joy.
What is there to worry about?

Her eyes.
Make the sun look like a street light.
A gander like that of a panther when preying.
Does her desire match mines?

Coffee house madness.
Her.
Raj Arumugam Oct 2014
1)
I was a blowfly
for weeks
in my previous birth
with metallic olive-green sheen
and wings and all


and my friends and I would fly
into the local bar
every eve
and we'd always be courteous:
"Bzzz....Is that stool taken?"

2)
Now that in this birth I'm human
I think many of us (man or woman)
can learn a thing or two
about manners from my blowfly life:
Always ask before you take a *stool
poem based on a joke I found online
Bri A Jan 2012
She tap, tap, tapped her cheap pen
on the yellowing paper.
The ****** paper stared back
a blank, unflinching glare.
Typical.
Frenetically, restlessly,
she set her own metronome faster
with the clicking of her pen
than the outdated clock sulking in the corner
could possibly keep up with.
Suddenly, decisively,
She pushed herself away from the desk.
The screech of the chair’s harsh legs
across a cold, unforgiving concrete floor
filled up the whole room with noise.
Noise was all around her,
empty noise,
invading her ears
her head
her brain.
Stop!
She needed them out.
The room was silent—
Save for her
and the sounds
of an old room
with a dying light
and a faded, ticking clock.
She closed her tired eyes and
drew deeply from the cigarette between her
thin, voiceless lips,
then smudged her little addiction out
leaving a burn stain at the top of her paper.
Might as well,
she figures,
not much good comin’ from this paper
anyways.
And anyways,
the flickering light
in this God-forsaken old office
wasn’t doing her any good, either.
She knew it was time to pack up,
head home,
but she needed this demon inside her
to work for her,
not against her.
‘Writers Anonymous’
that’s where she needed to be—
what she needed
to be a part of.
She had things to say.
And she couldn’t say them.
Flick, flick, bzzz.
The light sputtered,
limping dejectedly through it’s own current,
with a halfhearted commitment to shedding light.
Hanging over her head
just like the ideas
she couldn’t force her hand
to capture on paper.
They needed to be confined, here,
she knew.
These thoughts, buzzing around her head,
like the anxious flicking
and bzzing of the bulb dangling precariously above,
needed to be trapped in this paper,
immortalized externally,
a burden laid down
in incriminating ink before her.
That’s what she needed, she knew.
but no matter how often
or how hard
or how intense
she tap, tap, tapped her pen
on the rickety wooden desk
over the silent white paper
with the cigarette stain in the top corner—
those **** buzzing thoughts
cluttering up her brain
would keep sputtering through life.
Writers Anonymous.
That’s what she needed.
Anya Dec 2018
Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since I’ve heard from you and I’m beginning to panic. My mind keeps racing back to the last time we didn’t speak for that long and the worst starts to fill my head. The thought of you being in a coma again is unfathomable but that’s the only explanation of why you’re not answering.
            Summer before senior year was hands down the worst summer of my life. I didn’t know it then, but you were my best friend. We didn’t talk much over the summer but we kept in touch, saying that when school started up again we’d never part ways. We started talking about some dumb boy and for some reason we got into a huge argument over that. Sometime during the next day I texted you a simple “Hey,” so I could apologize, but I didn’t get a response. I waited a few hours and you still hadn’t answered me. Maybe my first text didn’t go through; I send another text. Still, there was no response from you. Soon enough, a week passes by…and another…and we almost hit the one month mark but that’s when, “Bzzz! Bzzz!”
            I’m at work and finally your name pops up on my phone screen and I excitedly read the message. “If you’re reading this, it’s too late. Just kidding, but there is something I need to tell you…” I start to lose it. My eyes frantically read over the message and I can barely comprehend what’s going on. There’s something about you having brain surgery and something else about how you’re really sorry for making this decision. I think I saw something about how you purposely picked a fight with me that day because you’d thought it’s be easier than telling me what was going on. I can’t believe it. I can feel my lip quivering and my eyes begin to water while my breath can’t escape my lungs. I had to go through my entire shift at work pretending that I was alright even though my best friend was in a coma. I had to think about how my better half is suffering and there’s nothing I could do to save her because I wasn’t even sure which hospital you were in.
            While you’re sitting in the hospital I try to make small conversation with your sister. I tried to keep her spirits high while mine were running low. I couldn’t let her see that I was falling apart because I was the only one she had standing by her side. Eventually you wake up and we’re all relieved that you’re miraculously alive. Something seems off though and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until that dumb boy we had argued over told me you had amnesia. He told me how when you woke up you didn’t even know who I was. It wasn’t your fault but you had no clue that you were my best friend. So I guess you couldn’t have known how awful that summer actually was.
            Fast forward a couple days to the start of senior year; I see you and I know you’re walking through the halls with a fake smile on your face pretending everything is okay. It was ironic how our smiles matched because we were both faking it the best we could. I helped you to all your classes even though you kept telling me you didn’t need the help. You put up a brave front and you told me, “Even though my world is falling apart, I can’t let anyone see me break down. What kind of valedictorian would I be?” That summed you up perfectly. No matter what you were going through you always had that fake smile plastered on your face.
            As senior year progressed we became inseparable. It was always the two of us together and people were amazed if they ever saw one of us without the other. We did all the smalls that senior year entails: football games, pep rallies, field trips, even prom. Soon graduation was upon us. We had done it. Through all the ups and downs, and all the challenges we had faced, we were finally graduating. You were excited to be attending the Naval Academy, your dream school. You were finally happy that you could permanently get out of Jersey. I knew that all the secrets you had entrusted me with would die as soon as were turned our tassels, because that’s what you had hope for and I couldn’t let you down.
            Summer begins. You throw a small going away party and I’m the only person who realizes this is the last time you’ll see any of us. I stay over and I try to make the time last because I knew it would be our last moment together. Emotions had gotten the best of me and I had to leave early the next morning so that I wouldn’t stain your couch with my tears. At the time I didn’t realize this would be one of my favorite memories of you.
            Summer is gone in an instant and it felt like just yesterday we were standing in your living room saying our goodbyes. We hadn’t talked much except for the occasional letter or two because you were busy at basic training. August came and you were allowed to have your phone back so after the couple hours of catching up, I had to go to work and you had to do some more training. College classes started and we were excited to say that we were finally college students.
            September and October passed us by in a blur. November comes and I was the only one excited for your birthday. Even though we can’t spend this day together, I still send you countless birthday wishes. The day after your birthday was the last time we talked. A week passed and by now I’ve sent you a dozen messages asking how you’re doing, but I don’t get any responses. Another week passes by and still no response. This is when I begin to panic. My mind races back to summer when you were in a coma. I can’t help but wonder if you’re dead or alive and this time I have no way of knowing.
            The one month mark is about to hit and I’m slowly losing my mind. Leaving you the day after your party was hard enough, how am I supposed to say goodbye when I can’t even see you?
            You wake up again, but this time it’s different. There’s the same case of amnesia but a different outcome because this time you don’t have the faintest idea of who I am and you aren’t recovering. You don’t know how much we’ve grown together or how much we’ve been through. You don’t know that if I look inside myself I can find broken pieces of you. I’m at a loss for words because when I speak to you, you’re looking through me as if I’m just another visitor in your hospital room. When people ask what happened to my best friend, all I can tell them is, “She’s still smiling,” and I could never forget the memory of you.
To all the people willing to read this long thing, thank you.
Brandon Navarro Oct 2014
Laying on my bed
music blaring
a slight bzzz from my record
there is an image in my head.

Standing on the top of a building
looking down
watching people go past
wondering what they're doing.
Now I'm crying and smiling
"This is it."
I can't do it though
and that is the worst pain ever.
I'm just really sad
temporary Mar 2018
Bzzz.

My head jimmies like a key with Tourette's and I feel
what can only be described as a sour taste in my ears.
If that's even possible.

Bzzzz.

My shoulders **** up like mountainous pimples,
that appear from nowhere, that I struggle to flatten.
If that's even possible.

Bzzzzz.

My hands are now styrofoam talons at my desk,
envious of others' measly yet cranberry soaked toothpicks.
Mine almost comfort that *******.
How is this possible?

Bzzzzzz.

I shut my eyes, and I hope he has dropped dead.
Though his black and yellow stripes should put him behind bars, he is here to stay in that never-ending cursed halo around my head.
How is he possible?
Kelly McManus Apr 26
Weapons labs survive
working on mankinds demise
should swat them like flies
Rose L Apr 2018
Quiet, now. This night might be waning, but
we're all out. and not so loud, although some of us
(while desperate to get home) are also desperate to get something out of this.
perhaps meet someone. Where are all the buses?
and underground, footsteps are loud, where we tread. Bzzz-kt.

Wake up, the day is day. Night's another thing. Don't let the cold get you down.

— The End —