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We pass the
walled incline
of Barbour Park

during the day
a foreboding
patch…an open
air market for
the slave merchants
hustling crack and
**** drippin ****
that's been stepped
on so many times
its a wonder the cut
can still chide a high
out of a wrangled soul

the park’s
modest elevation
is an advantageous
lookout for
runners dealing
dimes while
petty ante
gangstas
daydream
gun blazing glories
of their next big job

not long ago
the park was
refurbed with
an industrial
strength plastic
Jungle Jim,
soon after
the park was
condemned
as a no go
zone for kids,
the litter of
hypodermic
needles and
mounds of
lead spiked
soil, deemed
a public health
risk for youth...
quickly
repurposed
as a crib
for ballers…

back in the
day, the shady
pocket park
lifted Paterson’s
citizenry off
the heated
pavements of
a bustling
thoroughfare

a respite from
the pulsing
tensions of urbanity,
a secular sanctuary,
balancing the urgent
industry of commerce
with the propriety of
residential life

compacting a
brief escape
from the clanging
metronome with
a viewing stand
offering elevation...
a heightened
perspective on
life’s parade
marching
up and down
Broadway…

this urban
oasis planted
at the center
of Silk City’s
grandiloquent
boulevard,
occupies
the most
democratic
equidistant
transit point
between opulent
Eastside mansions
of livin large tycoons
at one end….
and the
industrial district of
The Great Falls,
rising at Broadway’s
western terminus,
assiduously
manufacturing
dollars for the darlings
of fortune and
subsistence for
workers yearning to taste
the crumbs of
prosperity that may fall
from the tables of
opportunity

the park once a
pleasant face of
the landlocked
4th Ward filled
with homage to
a nation's greatest
citizens, Hamilton,
Rosa Parks,
Lafayette,
Madison, Fulton,
Montgomery and
Franklin has
denounced the
virtuous pursuit of
their aspirational
yearnings

now playas
feast on
the mead
of sustenance
harvested from
emaciated streets

commerce has taken
up full residency...
the wards cottage industry
cannibalizing
homes, hoods and
homeboys

as the
4th Ward
grows ugly,
the healthy
matrix of
bustling
street life
breaks down
the peeps
weakened
lay prostate
offer veins
to blood *******
predators
roaming
distressed
going south
neighborhoods

wise guy
knuckleheads,
get busy
gaming
the system
short changing
themselves and
hustling game
to get by
in the sweet bye
and buy of life

at night
a back lit
Barbour Park
floods with the
yellow haze of
blinking Fair St.
lamp posts
and the pulsing
halations
crowning the
Baptist's
of St. Luke's

sentient figures
shift between
park benches
flitting among the
black torsos
of skeletal trees
blending into
the faded
complexion
of abandoned
swing sets

I swear I see
Hurricane Carter
shadow boxing
dancing
around a gangling
Elm, jabbing
away, lifting
a sweet uppercut
working combos
of left hooks
and right crosses
hoping to drop an
intractable
presence
banging away
at a body politic
forming the walls
of taunting
inequities

Hurricane stays
busy delivering
body blows
to burst
through the
prison bars
surrounding
Barbour Park

Music selection:
Bob Dylan, Hurricane

Paterson
01/30/13
jbm

A fragment from extended poem Silk City PIT.  
Published today to honor the death of Rubin Hurricane Carter.
May he find the freedom in eternal rest that eluded him during his lifetime.
A fragment from extended poem Silk City PIT.  (Part 4: Funky Broadway)
Published today to honor the death of Rubin Hurricane Carter.
May he find the freedom in eternal rest that eluded him during his lifetime.
Lucrezia M N Jul 2016
Something bigger than I am,
those shoulders over mine
and faster than I can be,
cannibalizing time,
it's not sad,
I'm not sad...

Someway it's worth one's while
seizing bubbles from reverie
and in between no crime,
starving now and then
I'm not dying,
it's not dying

What comes by nature grows,
poignant embrace to abide by.
To sharpen up a stem to a lilac rose
leaves bewildered but crucially alive
it's just my thought...
I'm just in a thought

But first I am
real and here
on my own to venture onward.
What goes around, comes around... This time it's Love in all its mutual, strange, controversial, harsh, stupid, free and countless ways... And I'm gratefully blessed, as quick as it's been though, that it came around, for it never leaves without letting you grasp somethings unconditionally good.
Ben Dec 2013
I don't sit well with happy
uncomfortable like a scab needing picked
or the way I can't say I love you
it gnaws at my stomach painfully
it ***** with my mind relentlessly
and leaves me feeling sick
I seek out pain like a ******
one hit was too much a thousand not enough
pawning my soul piece by piece
burning my body when there's nothing left
begging to battered bruised and
ever searching for a stronger dose
I can't sleep unless I'm hurting
or strung out stupid or drunk or
******* up my future trapped inside my head
I can't help but pick at sutures
just to keep on bleeding every good emotion
I thought I ever had
my heart it keeps on beat beat beating
tattered torn and full of holes
despite my best efforts to fail and fall
my hands they won't stop shaking
until I'm all run down and barely breathing
just staring at the cracked flaking wall
eating myself alive one memory at a time
self cannibalizing every comforting thought
burning mental bridges and savoring the smell
I can't stop thinking about death
but that would only stop these feelings
clutching at my broken mind
wishing it were broken glass
abhinav Apr 2021
Staring at bricks
stuck together
Lying and thinking whether
worth the kicks.

What's the point
a dull voice voiced
undermining the excited one
Life, more like a temple run

Everyone's aiming for high
like cannabis cannibalizing cerebellum
I can't think of a reason why
follow withered curriculum

Last nail has been hammered
Once again it surfaced
as I gaze with my face dazed
among others with thought so tattered.
have you every wondered what's the point in grinding day in and day out. what 's the final goal. if you understands the answer to the question what's the point do hit me up too........
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Rereading the poems of others
and my own. Community across
time and graves. What's left
exceeds in significance
one's last moment. Yet
his last moment must have been
exceedingly important
for the poet.

Nothing he did that day will seem meaningful.
While we prosecute the war
a pileated woodpecker and red squirrel
compete for sunflower seeds.
A winter slow
to assert itself.
I can still see my mother's father and his bowl
of filberts, almonds, walnuts
quiet weekday mornings.

Both grandfathers read sports
pages religiously. I don't know
if my grandmother who gave me the
anthology of, to date, dated
unreadable poems read poetry.
I remember my mother's mother spoke
rarely as an animal.

Writing but not knowing where I'm going
unlike Joan Didion justly
cannibalizing candidates
who didn't read the Constitution, Bill of Rights or
Federalist Papers. It's late,
I have not vacuumed or shopped for food.
Instead I reread
Phil Levine's Salami.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
MOTV Mar 2016
Lost in an insane asylum now i am riding into the abyss a tornado of darkness relapsed right before within hours it was broke smoking till I choke laughing at the burn my thoughts they steam they churn higher learning became erased and was wasted fully laced with shrooms in a vase growing beautifully in place then plucked like a rose but consumed like a banana all in down the hatch having to analyze the trip need a diorama, diagram, and some more RAM for this kid.

Memory

Take me to a place where I can live in the stars, jet black,  burning lights is the essence that just begins a true memory in the cemetery of the dead the souls as they laugh and play lust in all ways, but the way I sway my words turn them to zombies cannibalizing each other, the strongest is the alpha that runs out and destroys the others in doing that the abomination becomes fat, erodes in its brutish nature, truly exposed

Wasted

As I drink the fifth, the Jin talks within the gin, truly a spin on words, but not really, cause most men will wish pleasures for there ***** but me that is far to silly. Billy Jean was not his girl, but he sure did **** her. Being poor is not that real to the rich man who have most man working for them at the age of 10 but then again is that 1% an exception that can only be seen in an inception, during a recession, in repentance from a resentful soul oh be

Gentle

They scream as he came and conquered

They scream as he saw that we have gone bonkers

He came to conquer

Like champagne and lobster, Cuban cigar in that mouth and herb in that pipe, whispering in his ear is the Willow with an appetite and he might and he did and he will and he rid in to conquer again to conquer

End
james nordlund Apr 2018
Someone suggests that, "It is not wisdom
But authority that makes a law." Al,
With an obvious emphasis on the but, but,
As Confucius relates, people should be free.
With that all Americans agree, authority
That isn't wizened breaks life's Spirit,
Espirit de vie, instead of fostering it,
Realizing a people like the autocratic
Oligarchic narcissistic nihilist-in-chief,
Self-possessed to the point of being
A king-kong sized terrible-two, like his
Executive branch, which he's molded
Into rot, and it's attempting to destroy
The tree, this country, 'Turtle Island'.

So the as backwards remocrat approach,
While in ascendancy, because dempublicans
Didn't fight their hacking of our elections
Hard enough, isn't real or right, and
'Though it has come to pass, it's not
To stay, so say one and All. "..We(e),.."
Will not be undone, by the mediocracy
That thinks with spooned nose, speaks
With forked tongue, destroying democracy.
A society, fostered by progressing
Civilization, not a cleptocracy fueled
By technocracies' ravaging of the Earth.
For e.g., Confucian's 'Hanfu', "Heaven
Above, Earth below", manifests harmony.

Where man is betwixt, plumb, in balance.
It starts with individuals and "discipline,
Being the art of feeling awe..", Casteneda,
A combination of Jung's integrated self,
With Adler's integration into community,
A Sartrean freedom: "..we are free because
We are not a self, but a presence-to-self,
The transcendence, nihilation of our self.
We're other to our selves, that whatever we
Are or whatever others may ascribe to us,
We are in the manner of not being it.", no
Longer ego ridden, a tool in la machine's
Hand, rather, as it began, man weilding
Tools to better life, in nature's balance.

We can't go back to the righteousness of
Chief Seattle's, "..no one can own the land",
We can tread lightly, stalking ourselves,
Giving back to nature's abundance, a healthy
Skepticism, it's not the self-sacrificed when
We do what needs to be done, rather the false
Ego sacrificed at Thee's altar within.  Then,
As we left no footprints that followed none,
They will echo in all ways, and on, always.
So, on this tragic 50 th Memorial of the
Assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,
Let us remember his shining example, and his
Spirits, "...judging not lest ye be judged's"
Compassion for his neighbor, "...treated as

He wanted to be", for he wanted to be more,
Ever studiously growing.  His dream was for
All who choose awakening.  So too, those who
Suffer, and suffer from false-ego, and
Its projections, in mental cells, built of
Walls of delusions, with bricks of illusions,
Their personal hells, shouldn't be judged
Autocratically, as laws can work and be
Compassionately applied.  Also, even
Though, King pulled "..the arc of the moral
Universe bends towards justice" out of his
As, we know, if we take bullets we aren't
Making them, addressing personal injustices
Stops them from becoming global ones too.

If we don't exercise our responsibilities
Their Siamese twin sisters, freedoms,
Will wither like unused muscles, as well.
"You can't dismantle the man's house with the
Man's tools (materialism)", Audrey, Gandhi's,
"Be the change you want to see in the world,
The root of all oppression lies in (supposed)
Science", though he pulled "Satyagraha", out
Of his as.  What we don't matters as much as
What we do, the manner in which we don't or
Do things brings light, life to them or it
Doesn't, those most attached to life or
Death are more closely death, live on your
Feet or die continually on your knees.  
  
You see, while might might make right, it
Always makes wrong, and fraternity rules.
Just because the invisible coup's lie,
"Hillary's not perfect", was let fly by some
Dinos, linos, sinos, ginos, ainos, hackers,
Kremlin kronies now in the kluckahouse, wicked
Leaks, 20 % of Bernie or bust bots, the US
Intelligence/police industrial complex, (who,
Like king george + his ****, cheney, purposely
Didn't prevent the attacks on 9-11-01, they
Didn't prevent the hacking of our 11-8-16
Elections, installing Trumpler, attempting to
Realize a borne again cold war, extreme theft
Of tax $, etc.) doesn't mean the world must

Fall to Ebony, ivory, the Black and white
Supremacies' cannibalizing the future, tax
Dolla's, in perfect harmony, to replicate the
Past's supposed: profits, pleasures + powers.
"..We(e),.." can stop ivory's: removal of DACA,
Reproductive, healthcare, and voting rights,
Blacks not having to wait till 2040 to get
Another President, instead they can get one in
2020, potentially, etc., for Ebony, and stop
Ebony's getting: rid of zero-tolerance in
Public school + harsh law, shorter sentences,
Earlier releases + paroles, waving of crack
Convictions, extreme war funding, gutting of
EPA's work, etc., for ivory, by dispelling the

Delusional construct of materialism, that
Actual religion, bi-headed, of the false gods
Of mammon, wealth, avarice, and mollock,
Extreme violence, grinding up seed (behind
The masks of Christians, Hindus, Atheists,
Etc.), exemplified in those merx for more's
Through to mercs for unnecessary unending
War's war machine, oiled by the blood of non:
United **** of assassins citizens, white,
Upper-middle-class to rich, supposed
Christians, which most worship, separating
"It from of the state", which is demanded by
The Constitution.  Then we can struggle to
Denotseefy the rest of the 21 flavors of, in

This 'baskin and robbins' of, supremacy.
Only then will this criminal conspiracy of
Criminal conspiracies again resemble a
Nation.  For e.g., take the trillion ton ice-
Cube that just dropped in the drink, coasts
Flooded costing us billions, so oil corps.
Can make even more $, making the egg shaped
Planet into a sphere, denaturing the Earth's
Defenses against the astronomical forces of
The Sun, Moon and continually degrading the
Earth's orbit around them.  It's God's tear,
And as a single tears story is seldom told,
That flood will wipe us out, like the lose
Of $ to get a photo of a golfer on Mars will.
(Thinking of the tragic 50 th Memorial of the assassination (ever notice how assassin has a double *** in it,  'cause they're at least double *****) of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr..  Thanx to AlThePoet, Confucius, Carlos Castaneda, Jean Paul Sartre, Chief Seattle, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., The Bible, Audrey Lourdes, Mohatma Gandhi, The U.S.
Constitution; for the above qoutes, respectively)
Devin Ortiz May 2016
Lets try something new
An altered verse
Rhythm

Drink the chilling darkness
From the lifeless lips of death
Mourning skies paint roads with sorrow
Brushtrokes on a weathered canvas
Self mutilated through indecision

Moments frozen in eternities
Moments void of sound
Moments cannibalizing
Moments...

When traversing the wilderness
That fork in the way
Be it devils and demons
Be it cherubs and seraphs
Stagnation is death
Laokos May 2020
two (or is it three...?) weeks in to the
overnight shift and never have i wanted
   to wash myself in
the golden rays of that nearest                     star
our sun more than i do now as the ineradicable
   cloak of night stretches
itself over these my newly waking hours.  this night
i feel massive but
diffuse, like the ghost of a
   glacier lingering amongst the scablands;  nebulous
and immense,
   like a short-circuited god-machine
cannibalizing itself in a forgotten
corner of the universe.    the sleep is broken, the
mind needs rest.  the mind needs
   rest.
haint gonna mock ridiculous science
     asper to be bled
dark practices to leech out mailer daemons,
     not so laughable nor in cred

double, when oppressed diabolical  dread
oompah loompah fealty l'chaim fled
as hand grenades explode within my head
mettlesome monsters

     make mercuric chrome dome feel like a led
zeppelin with fractured stairway to heaven in stead...
delivers me zombies, where angels fear to tread  
cuz, the devil and psyche did wed

shotgun Swedish crow did house mafia style
wrenched, wrested wretched
     mental state most intense (no croc) dial
shattered, slewed, splintered sanity,
     thus practitioner with "FAKE" know how aisle

apprentice Aunt Roadie,
     who will skewer me evil spirits den da deuce
till I beak home one sacrificed overly cooked goose
a burnt offering shish kabob

     no longer able to raise cane on the loose
like a red bull
     rocky on the shoals of a frantically angry moose
livid with rage
     (akin to diary of mad a housewife)
   entropy written, where death will be only truce

pyromaniac qua ramshackle shanty (tinderbox)
     unleashes wicked zeal
hellacious incendiary juiced ride
     up plies noisome rubbery odor,

     sans hot wheel
along the outer limits of functionality explosions
     precipitate like drops of molten steel
routing hunger, searing nostrils,
     tearing tenuous fragile tethered tendrils

     self cannibalizing via tooth and nine inch nail      
     linkedin with nauseousness as thine meal
exemplary asper full blown panic attack
     lodged within mine genetic blooper print deal.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
***, is such a minor pass, on exfoliating expressions of pleasure, it's overrated, because it invokes such a bias, of bragging... its saturation with bragging hierarchies...

let's just assume, that working out pop music
favoritism, is less, "debilitating" than
attracting the attention of the ultra-******
squad of full bodied latex apocalypse ****
junkies...

           clearly... no one wants a hide & seek
pregnancy errant of succumbing to
the stature of fatherhood, when, the woman
you're involved...
can't tell you the difference between
her mother as her sister,
and her grandmother, as her mother...

oops?!

         but ***-bragging is such a shallow
form of entertainment...
            it's like the antithesis of
the Olympic spirit, with modern mob sports...
jargon this, jargon that...
counter: i am in favor of cult-status horror
movies, minor projects,
low budget... hellraiser -
notably for the atmospheric semi-religious
music strategies... auras...

        but atmospheric horror movies?
no ghouls, no goblins,
akin to that famous case of
marcin wrona hanging himself
having directed a movie about
a dýbbūk?
                    can you seriously contend
with reinventing comedy via
black comedy, dry comedy,
when the horror movie genre has moved
into the atmospheric partake of
reinvention - having
exhausted all the stereotypes,
and given them, a romantic twist?
      
*** bragging is such a minor pleasure...
  eloquence... tenacity...
    supposition: an entire banquet
of countering false allegations...
      all, much more, than mere ***...
           burning, the flesh,
rather than cutting it,
in the insistence of teenage girls...
ancient Roman bulimia rites
      of the transversed
                  state of young adulthood...

so neglecting...
   giving these girls the power of
****** sycophancy, shedding blood...
cutting, slitting, imitating the ***** slit...
never even teaching them,
about heating up a scissor hand,
burning themselves,
and cannibalizing their pain...
           turning it into
a cognitive strength...
              
  the horror genre has moved
into an atmospheric countenance...
comedy? lacking...
can't even find a redeeming aspect of
slapstick...
          where once was black humor...
western comedy,
never, ever, entertained
the concept of, a, cabaret...
it's too entrenched in
   monologist style comic entertainment...

which reads very much
like a slogan akin to:

SAVE THE AUTISTIC CHILDREN!

the bragging will stop,
the ******* embers of sheiks will drop
and drool...
     and ***...
    for whatever it was worth...
    will receive its relegating boot
from mainstream jealousy
          shackling, at the shuffling
ankles;
   mary ******* poppins...
  schim schim schim-n-é...
schim... mmm...
                    whatever...
                        out of all the movie genres?
horror...
         is the most nostalgic,
most melodic,
   of a classical schooling -
         ssss chewing, chart cheap:  
isch contra ich vilderswill...
          double U?  but not double V?
            eh...
                    secondary credit to fantasy
movies...
       j. r. r. tolkien...
would have never believed that
the story didn't make the compelling case...
nor the visual effects...
   but the music? sure as **** did.
SoupHands Apr 2016
I wake up itching every now and again
And I go the whole day thinking of bed bugs
Little nuclear bombs going off all over my arms and legs
Which is why I cut my nails now
I revisit that bridge every once in a while
To see if it's still smoldering
It looks war torn to be honest
That was one hell of a fire
Love becomes rage and that flame can't really be put out

It feels like every day I have to pick my self respect off the floor
And fight, just to open my eyes
Im paralyzingly numb, the air around me feels like shackles
Things dont make sense, I cant figure out what is disconnected
When I feel weak, I add another memory to the pyre
In an attempt to come to grips with this

It feels like Im starting to lose my sense of humor
My brain is picking **** apart
Cannibalizing to bolster what little defense is left
Everything is so tense, so grey
But I guess you cant fight DNA; the way you were built

Truth be told, I wish I could rip your tongue out through your teeth
I wish I could inflict on you, as much damage is still standing within me
But instead Im an aimless drunk, flailing at targets that dont exist
Finding fraudulence and lies in everyone I see
Hexa-focles, drunk goggles, eyes never built for my head
Welded in place, make me eager for untruth in people
Instead of hungry for their support
And the more I struggle, the more I deny my lies
The more these anti truths burn into my brain

My thoughts are a ******* hurricane
Im gorged with mistrust, greedy with skepticism, and eager to find an enemy
This isn't me. I think that every day
I dont even know who I am anymore

Chemically, I dont have the ability to comprehend or repair myself
They say the mind bends and twists in order to cope with anguish
It feels like mine is on the verge of breaking every day

Sometimes I feel like ending it all
I cant stop thinking about this
And it feels like Ill never recover
But pain is like matter
You cant destroy it; it'll just get passed around
And a weaker, more gentle mind would be burdened with pain they don't deserve
My reality is chemically changing all because of you

Youre a quitter, a hypocrite, a joke
Im not
I dont quit just because it's easy to do it
You do
I love so intensely, but I hate exponentially
And never in my most absurd dreams would I feel a hate like this

You begged on your knees to be forgiven
Yet you remained a traitor
Safe to say whatever you did you me pales in comparison to the emotional coma youre too dumb to find a way out of

It hurts to know that hurt is the only reminder I have left
To know that I can still feel, still hate
I learned that you cant surprise me, only validate my suspicions
Pain has absolutely no limit
Rock bottom does not exist
And that all people can be defined by patterns

But I watched you abandon your passions over and over
Become more of the type of person you used to laugh at

You left it to me to tell me you didnt love me anymore

Sometimes I feel those bed bugs
Those hot, lonely nights
All the burns and cuts
You took a part of my life and distorted it beyond recognition
I will always hate you, I will never forgive you

Remember when I told you about when i was young?
And I told you that I'd see girls with some ******
And I'd think, *******, what does a guy have to do to get said a girl like that?
Looks like Ill never know
current torture in my life
#depression #heartbreak
james nordlund Apr 2018
Liberal Hillary for notsee Trumpler,
Dempublicans for remocrats,
Because the invisible coup lied,
Hillary's "not perfect", was all
The excuse dinos, linos, sinos, ginos,
Ainos, kremlin kronies, hackers, wicked
Leaks, Bernie or bust bots, needed.

The worst, US intelligence/police industrial
Complex, who, like king george and his
****, Cheney, purposely not preventing the
Attacks on 9-11-01, they didn't prevent the
Hacking of our 11-16 elections, installing
Trumpler and attempting to realize a borne
Again cold war, extreme theft of tax $, etc..

Potential democracy for mediocracy,
Peace and prosperity for Ebony, ivory,
The Black and white supremacies'
Cannibalizing the future, for e.g.,
Tax dolla's, in perfect harmony,
To replicate the past's supposed:
Profits, pleasures, and powers.

$12. to $15. an hour minimum wage,
Reproductive and healthcare rights
Progressed, et al, for the Black
Supremacy getting: a President in 2020,
Potentially, instead of waiting till
2040, 'cause, "once you go Black you
Never go back", extreme war funding, etc..

"...We(e),...", used to know to: not
Grind up the seeds, let our kid's as...
Be, and let them be kids, the real
Deficits realized are astronomically
Higher, like when the trillion ton
Ice cube was dropped in the drink,
Cooling things off for a bit, but,

Heating them up forever, burning,
Flooding, extincting everything.  We can,
Individually, turn 360 degrees around,
Back to The Evolution, the future, humans
Will only have if we do.  By changing
Everything, swapping criminal insanity
For sanity, exigency for humanity, again.
"...We(e),...", still must struggle against the invisible coup that will choose Congress, by hacking, etc.,  for the kremlin cronies, etc., if we let them; giving the rems what they want and a boogeyman to blame it on to boot- the dems (not democrats in name only) must be forced to stand for the people, etc..  GOTV, please; thanx.   reality
zebra Nov 2021
THE SECRET RITUAL:
Irrespective of the wonderful *** you might have with others, or any ideals you may have about who, when, and where to engage sexually, sometimes the *** that you have with yourself gives you something impossible to achieve with another.

To be specific: what I’m speaking of are the internal mental constructs of performative ****** acts that are unrestricted in the imaginative world, and that one would never be able to consider in real time. Those masturbatory shadows of the deep and deeply ****** that few are able to acknowledge about themselves, and certainly remain unwilling to talk about with someone they maybe intimate with, for fear of its destructive impact on the relationship.

A shape of language
for the secrets of the body
for the secrets of the mind
in the flow of matter
physical and etheric
cyber chronicles of ambulated hunger
the cult of the body.

YOUR SEXULITY IS SACRED TO YOU, NOT SACRED FROM YOU:

Obviously moral sensibilities and the limits of temporal life dictate what we may do. We may be imaginative, bizarre, freaky and incredibly *****, but we are not crazy, at least not all of us, yet that doesn’t mean those shadowy ****** denizens of the deep don’t bathe in the great fathoms of our respective subconscious abyss.

My darkest desires
bloodletting streams
are a kind of ******
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious.

THE PARAPHILIAS:
“Paraphilia is the experience of intense ****** arousal to atypical objects, situations, fantasies, behaviors, or individuals.”
Current data supports that about one out of every 6 people, irrespective of gender or ****** preference, experience some kind of paraphilia.
Here is a list of paraphilias that is a focus of ****** interest:

Andromimetophilia: Trans men.
Anililagnia: Attraction by young men to older women.
Anthropophagolagnia: ****** and then cannibalizing another person.

Anthropophagy: Ingesting human flesh.
Apotemnophilia: Being an amputee.
Asphyxiophilia: Being asphyxiated or strangled.
Attraction to disability: People with one or more physical disabilities.
Autagonistophilia: Being on stage or on camera.
Autassassinophilia: Being in life-threatening situations.
******* asphyxiation: Self-induced asphyxiation, sometimes to the point of near unconsciousness.
Autogynephilia: ****** arousal of a biological male in response to the image of himself as female.
Auto-haemofetishism: Bleeding oneself (does not involve ingestion of blood). Type of autovampirism. [contradictory]
Autonepiophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of an infant.
Autopedophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of a child.
Autoplushophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of a plush or anthropomorphized animal.
Autovampirism/Vampirism: The image of one’s self in the form of a vampire. Involves ingesting or seeing one’s own blood.
Autozoophilia: The image of one’s self in the form of an animal or anthropomorphized animal.
Biastophilia/Raptophilia: ****** a person, possibly consensual **** fantasy.
Capnolagnia: Smoking.
Chremastistophilia: Being robbed or held up.
Chronophilia: Partners of a widely differing chronological age.
*******: Feces; also known as ****, scatophilia or fecophilia.
Coulrophilia: Clowns, jesters, and mimes.
Crurophilia: Legs.
Dacryphilia: Tears or crying.
Diaper fetishism: Diapers; considerable overlap with paraphilic infantilism.
*******: Trees.
Emetophilia: *****.
Eproctophilia: Flatulence.
****** asphyxiation: Asphyxia of oneself or others.
Erotophonophilia: ******, often of strangers (also known as dacnolagnomania).
Exhibitionism: Exposing one’s genitals to unsuspecting and nonconsenting others.
Feederism: Eating, feeding, and weight gain.
Formicophilia: Being crawled on by insects.
Forniphilia: Turning a human being into a piece of furniture.
Frotteurism: Rubbing against a non-consenting person.
Gerontophilia: Elderly people.
Gynandromorphophilia, Gynemimetophilia: Transgender women.
Hematolagnia: Drinking or looking at blood.
Heterophilia: Idealization of heterosexuality and/or people who are “straight-acting”, especially by non-heterosexual people.
Hoplophilia: Firearms, guns.
Hybristophilia: Criminals, particularly those who committed cruel or outrageous crimes.
Infantophilia: ******* with a focus on children less than five years old; a recently suggested term that is not in general use.
Kleptophilia: Stealing; also known as kleptolagnia.
Klismaphilia: Enemas, arousal and enjoyment in receiving, administering, or both.
Lactophilia: Breast milk.
Liquidophilia: Immersing genitals in liquids.
Macrophilia: Giant beings; the imagined growth of beings.
Maschalagnia: Armpits.
Mazophilia: Female *******.
Masochism: Suffering or humiliation; being beaten, bound or otherwise abused.
Maiesiophilia: Pregnant women.
Mechanophilia: Cars or other machines; also “mechaphilia.”
Melolagnia: Music.
Menophilia: *******.
Metrophilia: Poetry.
Microphilia: Very small people or small body parts.
Morphophilia: Particular body shapes or sizes.
Mucophilia: Mucus.
Mysophilia: Dirtiness, soiled or decaying things.
Narratophilia: Obscene words.
Nasophilia: Noses.
Navel fetishism: Navel.
Necrophilia: Corpses.
Objectophilia: Specific inanimate objects.
Oculophilia: Eyes and activities directly relating to and/or involving the eyes. Voyeurism does not meet classification for this term.
Odaxelagnia: Biting or being bitten.
Olfactophilia: Smells and odors emanating from the body, especially the ****** areas (as from breath, *****, feces, flatulence, etc.).
*******: Arousal from having a full bladder and/or wetting oneself, or from seeing someone else experiencing a full bladder and/or wetting themself.
Paraphilic infantilism: Dressing or being treated like a baby, also known as autonepiophilia or “adult baby syndrome”; considerable overlap with diaper fetishism.
Partialism: Specific, non-genital body parts.
*******: Prepubescent children, also spelled paedophilia.
Peodeiktophilia: Exposing one’s *****.
Pedovestism: Dressing like a child.
Podophilia: Feet.
Pictophilia: ******* or ****** art, particularly pictures.
Piquerism: Piercing the flesh of another person, most commonly by stabbing or cutting the body with sharp objects.
Plushophilia: Stuffed toy animals (“plushies”).
Pygophilia: Buttocks.
Salirophilia: Soiling or dirtying others.
****** fetishism: Non-living objects.
****** sadism: Inflicting pain on others.
Shoe fetishism: Shoes, such as high heels.
Somnophilia: Sleeping or unconscious people.
Sophophilia: Learning.
Sthenolagnia: Muscles and displays of strength.
Stigmatophilia: Body piercings and tattoos.
Symphorophilia: Witnessing or staging disasters such as car accidents.

Telephone scatologia: Obscene phone calls, particularly to strangers; also known as telephonicophilia and scatophiliac.
Teratophilia: Deformed or monstrous people. The term is also sometimes used in a more literal sense (from ancient Greek τέρας, teras, meaning monster) for attraction to monstrous mythical and fictional creatures such as werewolves.
Toucherism: Touching an unsuspecting, non-consenting person with the hand.
Toxophilia: Archery.
Transvestic fetishism: Wearing clothes associated with the opposite ***; also known as transvestism.
Transvestophilia: A transvestic ****** partner.
Trichophilia: Hair.
Troilism: Observing one’s partner engaged in ****** activities with another person.
Urolagnia: Urination, particularly in public, on others, and/or being urinated on. Also referred to as “water sports”.
*******: The idea of one person or creature eating or being eaten by another; usually swallowed whole, in one piece; also known as vore.
Voyeurism: Watching others while naked or having ***, generally without their knowledge; also known as scopophilia or scoptophilia.
Wet and messy fetishism: Messy situations, including, but not limited to, being pied, slimed or covered in mud.
*******: Animals.
Zoosadism: Inflicting pain on animals, or seeing animals in pain.
~~~~~
A REAL-LIFE PROFILE OF A WOMAN ACUTELY AWARE OF HER DARK FETISHY SIDE
Primary Fantasy: Dehumanization, objectification. I love the idea of being kidnapped and converted into meat.
(Fantasy obviously!!)
I also enjoy preservation, taxidermy, dollification, weird stuff like that!
Other Fetish Interests:
Hucow
Medical
Lab scenes
Necro
Morgue
Hanging
Lethal injection

MAKE THE UNCONSCIOUS CONSCIOUS:
There is much written in-depth psychology about ****** pathologies caused by repressed or shadowy disowned parts of ourselves and how those neglected forces may determine unwanted fate. Shame and self-deception is not our friend. Know yourself.

Pleasure is so close to ruinous waste
nakedness wrecks decency
degradation feeds the bonfire of hunger
and the wound of desire bleeds away within

leave nothing
but the bleeding edge
ruin me she said.
~
Beyond hearts mastery
hullabaloo crime scenes
like night jungles
of tooth and claw
in corridors of neuron ghosts
while **** licking succubae
*** livid pornographic hieroglyphs
fed by the dreaded
excesses of testosterone
towards some ruined
blood spotted
hanky-panky *******
just to remind me of you
and how it hurt just so
and how you loved me for it
whoever you are.
....
https://medium.com/@4zebra2u/the-secret-***-life-we-keep-from-our-selves-7f227dbc6c4a
Lou Nov 2017
I am an anorexic with a gluttonous mouth for bad table manners and my own feet.
I relate to 364 licks to the center of the tootsie pop to only find out it was just dirt and high fructose corn syrup.
Like my personality it is a disappointment. Maybe the world would of been better to let this one go.
C'est la vie my family, whom leaves me at the table with a cold meal I refuse to acknowledge as food.
My father's own teachings red on my face and my mother's lessons bleeding from my ears. Welcome to church today we will be eating the lord.

Cause I feel something must fill me more than nihilism which by nature fills me with nothing but more space for my lack of motivation and self deprecating.
I need to be nothing so I must eat just that.
I want to save someone so they can eat me one day.
If I gave myself up to be eaten on Sunday's due to lack of interest in feeding myself,
I'll put a spin on my suicide and say its for my followers.
I wonder what I would taste like.  
Arrogantly I'll claim myself as zesty a flavor of Passover dinner or just Christ. I can picture the burning cross on the sauce bottle.
I'd eat it.
But I may have consumed so much of Christ's body and blood, I must be what I eat.
I wanna be the devil in deserts of my passions.
The fats that I was told not to indulge just for me to steal and hide under my grandmother's shadow without shame as did Lucifer.

"For my sake", she would say,
Force fed in line to ingest the breast and white meat of Jesus with no seasoning. Just gross.
That token of him a flake disk ******* of Bible versus and boxed wine, the same meal to have fed a congregation.
A congregation that must have starved and ate each other to really live, that's probably how we have Catholicism.
My halo childhood head would crave the cheap red dry and knew what the point was to drink his veins and get drunk off of me.
I was fed not my saviors life but my-self lie, placed into my mouth as a tasteless disciple, cannibalizing my identity for salvation.
"Save me", is a phrase I never said,
Cause I thought I was made in his image.
"Feed me", was more like it.
as I chomped on my fingertips and hair.
So I conclude I must be passover for I have been eating myself.
And I am not zesty.
I'm boring and salty like I would be later on.
Chopping from the branches of trees low hanging meat,
hearts and hands boiled into my idle grip cauldron. All theories and none of it stone soup for anyone's soul.
What useless things are my hands without knifes and forks.
I am simply their slave as I was to my addictions to eating saviors.
Now I'm useless, godless and starving.

Gandhi was bony, spicy and tasted like young women.
Crowley tasted like young boys and patchouli
LaVey was chewy dark meat but too Gainey for me
And Nietzsche...Nietzsche was good,
in spite of the syphilis just not enough to go around.
Had to overcome that man.
I tried just about everything to cure my hungry nihilism.
I've binged on fortunes from cookies that have more faith in me than I have in myself. Sentiment in sugar, not so sweet but bland and stale as my eyes and heart.
Confucianism is a light diet kind to nature but I am not willing to share my plate nor am I that kind.

My teeth still picking saviors out.
The taste of the lamb of god hasn't washed out of mouth for years
I tried to burn it out with the devils fruit but its just humanities ******* in a gardening hose blasted in my mouth.
I can still hear the nails on my dinner plate go into his wrists,
the blood being dropped on  marble as the nuns lashes crack me,
To lick it off the basilicas floor.
I am the last at my families table undecided to starve at a feast of philosophy.
Or gnaw on the bones of those I already ate.
I'm certain with a good cookbook of my creation,
with remnants left over of condiment hymns,
two slices of existential crisis,
One molded cheese of absurd ideas
and a garden of seeds I planted from the bowels of dead Messiah's.
I will have a meal.
One that maybe you all would like to partake in.
Jonny Angel May 2014
It’s a nice seat over
here on the safer bank,
where I’ve chosen
a cozy spot
to sit & contemplate
the future of my world,
watching
those narrow-minded-fools
fighting
amoungst themselves,
cannibalizing
each other’s dark hearts,
& giving me time
to start all over again,
now stronger
than before
the melee
began.
The Reds won by turning capitalism and democracy against us The frenzied shortsighted pursuit of individualism enraptured by its own grandiosity Obese in arrogance and false piety Among our weakest links the myth of liberty in the guise of protection against our own From My Cold Dead Hands they will eulogize the depths of our hypocrisies tucked into the gaping cracks of a marbled column tombstone that reads We the People a hollow echo from a dead philosophers guilded mirror reflecting delusions of equality while his window glimpsed the reality of People bound as chattle An era of monsters championed as heritage by a devolved theater of gross absurdity enraptured by a sycophantic maelstrom swirling a wretched mass of vitriolic grievance creeping its facists tendrils through our halls our homes and our hearts So much bluster about essential freedoms now a **** in the wind from a constituency of the ignorant dead eyed before the altar of Exceptionalism A manifestion of the truly unexceptional by a bizarre cult of personality devoid of that very essence Whiny and bloated convinced its oily opulence is somehow self evident justification for its own cavernous gluttony Heavy the privileged jowels spew hatred and lies slathered in corruption shouted as truth through the arcanity of scripture among those who would not know the forest from the trees from the rot in their minds as long as it says so on the TV vomiting endless propaganda of imagined shadow forces flooding the country with fictionalized caramel colored criminals Willingly blind barrelling into a fog of twisted fantasy failing to realize that the narcos envisioned pale by comparison of heinous intention or deed to the very real NARCs embraced Lockstep and jackboot heel in tow behind a tide of Nationalism that is anything but A contrived patriotism cannibalizing its own mythology whittling the bones of history to alternate facts devoured by fat children as so much sugary cereal bored reading the Constitution from the back of a whitewashed cardboard box ******* about a return to values and integrity they never possessed with their fingers crossed Cowing to the blackened whims of spineless parasitic wraiths picking at the shades of fallen titans Packs of roving dipshits trumpeting ideals their grandfathers died to eradicate Prancing about sporting the finest camo and tac gear in a perverse sashay Their measure of civic duty reduced to how much red white and blue crowds their shitstained boxers dowsed in cheap beer and sad rivulets of encrusted ***** trickled in a shame for which they have yet to fully account or atone Fools leading the foolish to oblivion are we God bless the USA for surely no creature under heaven would
james nordlund Dec 2020
Convolution's coming to the fore', with him
putting rumpettes "...in his Cabinet, Admin.".

But, of cour', when we think the as backwards
crew's in our rearview, their rule reigns.

The world knows they're every moment traitors
for e'er more, and ne'er were nothin' more.

Colluding to collaborating with their destruction
of nation, cannibalizing the pieces,

is treason too, it's not "stopping partisanship",
not "bringing a country together", not "healing",

only hurting, 'I undo the wraps from my
wounded heart', "...we(e),...", are keeping it's

broken pieces from falling apart with, 'covid's
gotta be stopped, gotta save quarter million lives',

'Ossoff and Warnock need us to help GOTV,
donate, to win GA's Senate seats for US',

but, it'll never be the same.  Thought crime
replicating la machine, the show that must, goes on?
"I undo the wraps from my wounded heart", in the poem.  Thanx for all you All do.  "To walk in seasons Is to question, A flower is opening.", Basho.  If it ain't fixed don't break it.  It only takes one illage to destroy a village, tragically.  Have a good day   :)   reality
Respite from punishing
     heat wave - yay
which above line,
     could "speak" volumes,
     and be a stand alone poem
     offering readers
     a reprieve nsync
     whence roasting, sultry,

     and torpid unpleasant
     weather since yesterday
boot such brevity,
     would disallow
     me to extemporize,
but more importantly today
this intrepid word
     smith doth "say,"

he would never
     wanna miss trodding,
     the formerly (golden
     in their heyday now sketchy),
     sections of said roadway,
now where digital electronic
    rustily hinged, abandoned,
     and gated haunting quay

a throwback, when
     private manned schooners
     (shaped like a beer stein),
     perhaps headed to Uruguay
could ply outlying
     waters of cyberspace,
     why... just yesterday
when my troubles

     did not seem so far away
versus this present opportunity
     to risk live and limb
(and Kong like wrath
     of my reed ding fans)
     while getting way
     laid "traveling as
     Wilburys soul survivor

     foreign ancient groupie,"
     the dangerous, derelict, and dicey
     dubiously dotting dilapidated,
     dark corners information
     super high way,
thus yours truly
     doth not heed,
     but flaunts like some cray

zee (NOT RICH, NOR ASIAN),
     but rather some gray
beard (grizzled), curmudgeon
     figuratively gnarled, toothless,
     and weatherbeaten lackaday
lay about good for nothing
     mellow flew wuss depraved
('cept mebbe "robbing"

     precious and special time
     of some bachelor
     farmer from Norway)
all the above
     essentially wrote for naught
merely (as diversion) to comment,
     how this September day wrought
ascent o' fought

     (a scent oh aught) tum caught
me wear'n a corduroy
     long sleeve shirt since...aye taut
a "FAKE" hungry

     Grimm gimlet eyed trumpeting lout,
     germane Don apprenticed
     how to become cannibalizing
     (without accountability) fuhrer,

(and lastly rendering enemies  
     into sweet tasting sauerkraut),
this while learning das dialect
     (tickle) Matt speak,

(which took me a lifetime),
     this preceding the
     quirky invention of the umlaut!
Earned to date,
nee absolute zero
academic bankable bragging rites
explained arduous, horrendous, onerous
agonizing, heartbreaking,
nerve wracking travails

hamstringing, hijacking, hobbling...
maximization of potential
e'er since yours truly
begat when ma dada
fired off his johnny rotten *** pistol
handy dandy blues clues unsheathed

******* gun - lobbed more'n blanks
scoring bullseye pregnant truth
discovered ex post facto
yoked target with egg sealant aim
conceived coe idle upstanding ovation
fusion formed diploid
cell signifying zygote

activating, kickstarting, quickening
embryonic biological reproductive processes
intimating swell happening,
where linkedin rocketed payload
snookered triggered ultimately
yielded inchoate homunculus jackanapes

zapped out birth canal
ready for prime crying time
parturition players chemical romance loosed
yawping, writhing, tethering pipsqueak
full term newborn blasted,
the shocked monkey,

accompanied by archangel Peter Gabriel
trusty unnecessary dangling umbilical cord
obstetrician quickly severed
in utero air supply superfluous
initial gulps of oxygen
commenced fretful incessant laborious

ongoing ripsnorting unrelenting
said vicious trauma,
albeit begat courtesy
glommed deoxyribonucleic acid
mercilessly assailing psyche
metaphorically holding hostage

nee actually essentially cannibalizing
analogous to birthing simultaneous
diabolical identical twin doppelgänger
undermining since getco
proper holistic pursuits
evidenced when matriculating

learning fraught
shot thru with abysmal results
post high school
academic endeavors
evidenced by matriculation
without graduation incorporating

half dozen colleges/universities
earning measly grade point average
simultaneously accumulating
shoddy employment record
now saddled with unbridled

penuriousness - scratching out poetry
every now again
this brother grimm
writing endeavors feeble
becoming financially solvent.
Hidden under crop circle
resembling an ampersand
hides sheathed silo - obscured,
said symbol adorned every armband
of national socialist, yet weapons

of mass destruction) bland
lee, blatantly ignored global pact
prepared from this once (bajillion
years ago) geologic bottomland
repurposed for a bomb bin able

(made in good ole US of A) brand
to release payload
upon given command
i.e. at moments notice,
the notorious brigand

usurped entire communications broadband
to stow and let loose by,
thee once upon a time pokey cowhand
now chief of state tyrant,
sans military industrial complex edifice

where deadly warheads demand
did and trumpeted by "FAKE EVIL"
apprentice madly (ad libbing)
gesticulating, & expostulating to DISBAND
at once - to no effect

falling on deaf ears
as Doomsday Clock rhythmically
minutely gourmandises
cannibalizing entire webbed
world, whose former slender
(now stubby) baby grand

piano playing butter fingers
primed to press miniature
Taj Mahal shaped hand,...
(now a pause for infowars
commercial identification about Homeland

security threatened by migrant husband
and wife, especially terror unleashed
from baby, whose hood
loom doth not expand
much taller than kickstand),

Regular noteworthy poetic program resumes:

...but biological chattering multiplicand
the fiercest most critical operand
linkedin with scheme
asper deadly retaliatory reprimand
against leader of free world,

a hot headed note tory us
donning wig by handmaiden Shetland
knitwear, which Total Mortal Kombat
every man, woman and will soon understand!

KA-BOOM! Into a bajillion
(to the power of Googleplex)
goes civilization and discontents,
and since World War II
accursed with self destructive hex
hmm...mebbe terrestrial for
another species similar to T-Rex.
'Pon gleaning lasses,
     and sir really not alright
not "FAKE" lads
     grievousness doth bite
Love's Labour's
     (Romeo and Juliet)
     Lost sequel - colyte
(an emetic) more

     bare hubble despite
abdominal cramps
     (post colonoscopy),
     where this poetic soul admits,
     the latter doth not
     hole hearted lee excite
yet, countless plaintive verses fight
ting despair espied

     by unsuspecting readers
     (such as yours truly),
     no shining knight
ruminating squelched, spurned, light
ning and/or soiled
     paramours hurtful might -
bitter byte size pill
     deters peaceful night

methinks tortures teariness plight
unstoppably, vicariously,
     and wickedly quite
this veritable stranger experiences
     lamentation toward each right
or left word thinking
     youthful earthlinked, sad sight
fractured gnarled hotmail in tight

fitting pants, and/or
     ill humored gal uptight
an afflicted aching,
     thus this paean I write
availing thyself
     for those who cry
(game lee), and perhaps
     feel like they wanna die

unsure how to help
     fracturing soul I espy
unable to heal,
     but on a whim
     this idea didst fly
unsure yar bitta
     bing banged psyche
     ja wanna entrust this guy

kindle ling emotional pain hi
underwent during mine
     almost three scores years my
body sashayed round
     the sun well nigh,
now within avast
     delicate web I ply
tender tinder tumblr

     full spilling sadness sigh
lent lee self cannibalizing
     vulnerability, yet try
in vane unable to heal
     airing youtube whatsapp
     without me asking why
only this papa of two
     near grown daughters

intervention likened
     to race against time, -
     viz being potential
     dead serious life saver,
this yang doth not not lie!
Madame X Nov 2022
Metallic thoughts crumpled against my mind
No relief do I find
Horror scenes of my past, present, and future
Making my pain seen and unseen
I want to be be free
I want to be protected
I have burned every bridge before
And I can’t wait to light the match now
The escape fantasy that always results with a bullet through my brain
I want the pain to end
Sublimated infrastructure of my slavery within

No hope in sight
Only feelings and thoughts harming me
Only mistakes and comparisons cannibalizing me
Ego won’t subside
Ego only hides my true identity
Angry and selfish always seem right alone
It comes off of me like a rancid fragrance
I have to find the futile solution
Shame and guilt loops always leading back to my hell
So I stay away to keep my hidden pain from hurting myself or others
I get rid of the splinter by cutting off the my arm
I spite the face by cutting of my nose
And no one cares

As I die here alone and watch my life force leave my body
I am surprised by the end
I am startled by the un-attached truth of what death really is
Trapped in the next realm regretting what I have done
Too final to change now
Am I alone here?
Was I always alone?
Can anyone help me?
Does anyone hear me?
Our unhinged president,
(a veritable loathsome miscreant)
cannot get away with ******,
nor will mine paltry poetic
(side winding) gambit
help clinch deserved punishment
for leader of free world hell bent
on destroying civilization.

Nevertheless cathartic and therapeutic
to craft (ala literary blitzkrieg)
sentiments lambasting atrocious,
egregious, malicious, nefarious,
opprobrious, seditious, uproarious, vicious...
***** deed(s) done dirt cheap.

I exercise freedom of speech to relieve and air
impermissible, reprehensible, terrible... behavior
that finds me aghast at presidential malfeasance,
yours truly reacts to horrible unconscionable and
double trouble flagrant malfeasance unleashed
courtesy commander in chief generating, loosing
rioting, where yawping hardy madding crowds

begat: agonizing, antagonizing, authorizing,
baptizing, cannibalizing, capitalizing, comprizing,
compromising, demonizing, destabilizing,
epitomizing, glamorizing, jeopardizing,
metastasizing, patronizing, prizing, seizing,
terrorizing, traumatizing, vandalizing credo,
ethos and faith bolstering United States.

Impossible mission to function amid
chaos erupting, germinating, inducing
kindling making overt quakes spurring
ignore, reboot, fail flashes across mind
scape feeble endeavor to summon hope
and retry to jump start or kick start life,
liberty, and the pursuit of happiness
regarding overarching linkedin woe

experienced by one garden variety
generic, aging, long haired pencil
necked geek predisposed to anxiety
whereby a half dozen prescription
medications help tamp down once
debilitating panic attacks, whence
body formerly wracked with vertigo,
nausea, and irritable bowel syndrome.

Methinks thee boorish, blimpish, brutish,
childish, churlish, dullish, foolish,
gangsterish, goyish, gruffish, hoodlumish,
impish, loutish, nebbish, oafish, ogreish,
peevish, plumpish, piggish, roguish,
rowdyish, ruttish, selfish, thuggish,
unbookish, and wolffish zealot of
self importance feels no remorse.

Four years from now said unnamed villain
could rightfully within incredulity once again
be elected to become forty seventh president
welcoming white supremacists in the main
linkedin and extolled as their captain my captain
dredging up spirit of Mark Twain
long since buried at second mark
on a line that measured depth,
signifying two fathoms, or 12 feet.
i sign to the body eclectic:
hardly... anything associated with the zing
and zigzag of electricity:

i have a spare hour in the afternoon
and i made a good enough judgement
call to go to my usual barber
shop without my usual barber:

closed my eyes and sat back:
waiting for a tingle akin to the defrosting
sensation of a dentist putting on
his latex gloves and shoving his
fingers into my mouth:

maybe it was me looking at an old
man bewildered as i was
finding a younger man at a bus stop
choking with impromptu rap
and huh? met a huh?!
by then there was no genius spectacle
just a common cold: case:

of those i love: hmm: slow drilling sensation:
humdrum... humdrum...

why is it that music has become
so: dissatisfying...
i still make quantum leaps of memory
thinking about locking Reyla up
in my "castle"
while me and Edie go out to
conquer and misunderstand London:

highbrow my ***:
if i'm going to a German opera
i expect the opera to be in German...
i don't understand: by now: satire:
of having translatable efforts
and abstract postmodernism blah blah...

you had about 30 odd (impossibly so)
flirting with the stage
holding pieces of paper
running around like headless chickens
insinuating the imitation of:
a flurry of birds...

the phantom did appear:
by the interval while the culturally flabbergasted:
astonished... cooing wows and woos
because that's: about right: the "money's worth"
brigade sat through
the excruciating domain
of... oh... let's say...

google search: algorithm testing:
serial killer with pins in ******* before execution:
Half Berg Fosh...
well: that was me: but i wasn't getting
enough sadomasochistic "flavor"
to want
demand or need to sit through another
let's say: half a penny's worth quarter
of an hour...

something grey and -ish and subtle like
a slug that's not a snail
cannibalizing itself...
but music and cinema:
opera: what is there to be celebrated
with this: vagary:

i used to soothe myself into sleep
(perhaps finding dreams,
it's not like i can, simply, conjure them
with rabbits from top hats)
utilizing music:
now... i'm looking for insomnia and
her snoring
but maybe: justifiably so:
there's...

        i knew the guy sitting next to me:
was going to get a haircut sooner before
i was
a beard trim is an added expense: expanse...
talk of football and how:
well this player didn't do this,
this player was ****
poor result...
and i'm thinking: but there's so much
world and other worldliness out there
there are so many other sports
you can delve into: appreciate:
why succumb to just mere soccer
and get yer ******* hammers or cannons
or cockerel tattoos: like:

i just don't understand
by fault or non-mistaken...
it feels like the glue of society is running
dry and even if a fly should
sit on it: the sticky property of glue
are just not there:
there's this: dystopian: miasma...
this: everything is just dandy
just... reminiscent of the later stages
of the 20th century being:
underdeveloped in preserving continuity:

but the spectacle is still there
while i'm thinking about crowd control
and it's just a base repertoire of
clueless rhetorical venturing to
speak while also doubly-speaking
using sign-language that's imagination
curtailing: nothing cryptic about
it just explaining:

a wall of people vs a sea of people
and focusing on:
creating a river of people...

and to think of how many children i could
have had that could have become
the prodigal sons the bus-drivers
and anatomy specialists of a proper brunch
and some other unspectacular
fractions of my DNA... maybe...
just the right sort of punctuation
to alleviate my otherwise missing
subject matter... since it's of no concern
(by now)
given there's no need to use ink
or paper
and i can just summon the almighty
technology barons to ensure i have
enough democratic space to
leave my spew to fester and wound
and wind up: no wind?
wind up... no whining?

WYND as opposed to winding up:
that why why why is just jitters and hot air
i want to write something delightful
like a:

hmm: quietly in the kimonos...
a Jane Austen saga: compilation of:
everyone introducing each other and themselves
all proper and courteous with
Mr Fethrington: Mrs Allowancekeep...
Mr Jeffrey Juicesor:
Ms Heavenlywait...
Baron Oswald: Herr Fritz...

           so we end up scribbling weaving scribbling
how half-baking dough looks like
but not for any other circumstances
but the allowance of a ****** 100 years from
now:
because by now conversation
without to a saving inkling of intimacy
is just your standard: hello, the weather,
haven't seen you in a while...

lisp doctor: a microcosm of imitation with
the cashier
past the self-checkout she was too busy
so i went to the tobacco stall and that
usually casual: oh i haven't seen you in a while
and in the most detail:
like some 19th century parody of pre-Victorian
stiffness and:
a man will become exasperated:
enamored: by a simple touch of the fingers:

ooh! ooh! so much LGBTqx+z taboo bashing
now i feel like i'm on brain-freeze mode
but if so much is permitted
and there are no restraints: no gravity of ***...
just random bishboshing about
like watching paint dry on the wall
or agonized with plentiful seeing a tumble dryer
spin spin spin O spin spin O spin...

i think by now me and  JILL MCDONOUGH
can talk about *** like everyone talks
about ***
in that *** as this great ambivalent allowance
of testing both sea and lake of
thirsty for more sea *** of heterosexuality
while the supposed calm of sweet water ****-erotica
at least in my mind
the gay intellect is real
rather than stages of fetishes, fiction, daydreaming...
Harlequin novellas my grandmother
used to read:
at least my great-grandmother expected
to be a nun but no nunnery she got...

so this, my meager half *** half want half:
i halve halves and therefore: presto: hey! quarters
because: just: *****-nilly super-Filly...
there's this sense of a long goodbye
while all things electric and plumb are just
fine as long as there are bus drivers
and airplane pilots and cashiers
and as long as death does not overpower
the living with some tumultuous brainstorm fakery
of:
       this decadence all around us:
this hiding of illness and faking: and eventually dying...

then some splendor of the misnomer hyperbolic
comes along and one begins to chant:
that shovel is not a fork
that fork is not a spoon
that black is not black
but is red
and that Eiffel Tower is supposed to be
a glorified scaffold monstrosity
enshrined on the horizon of Kuala Lumpur
in bamboo!

but i can return to the casual, boring,
tongue borrowed from everyday...
or i can savor these impromptu escapades
into semi-nonsense...
but shh... it was hardly the prompt scribble
for some rhetorician to scramble over:
this is not persuasive language:
i've already persuaded myself thus far...
what's a little more, beside the already itching
scalp from the barber's treatment to
make me look civilized and not spooky...

MFA... fine arts...
   seems to me a bit like how men pass laws:
unlike the laws without whims
unwavering like the tall building the ledge
the cartoon of stepping onto air
not falling for a second...
the judgement surrounding: the critique of:
the appreciation of:
then back to the world of laws
and those men constipated themselves:
the sound whimsical ordeal:
best to stay away from the courts and the art
galleries
since you might end up disappointing
by being disappointed by somehow not
being appreciative enough:
not enough: force-feeding turkey before
the advent of the great corruption...

like religion it's always a case of:
i say what you don't say
and that should be best: for both of us...
supposedly not, the, case...
well: it's not even supposedly not
and more a: suppose so...

(i would gladly just delete this
but there's some use, even for something
mediocre as this).
Jena T Feb 2020
It burns inside
Searing light,
Let it crackle and die.

A fire caged,
Watch it rage
Fueled by pain.

Rioting flames of day
Burn and rave,
Till dusk has its way.

Castles high
Eating itself alive,
Cannibalizing a dying life .

Flames to rise,
Crumble and die
The cycle of why?
Describes celibate bent aegis.
Mein kampf illustrates gravitas.

Underdog muted lest intimidation
think bully brandishing fist in my face
threatening to buzzfeed me
a brassy knuckle sandwich.

While breezily reading Judy Bloom,
(whose material geared
toward young adult)
book titled Blubber - published in 1974,
(which year found yours truly - me
undergoing amazing transition
classified as puberty)
bemoaned childhood's end - id est mine
interestingly enough romanticized boyhood
livingsocial within Lake Woebegone

(way before Garrison Keillor
named said fictitious town),
purely swiftly tailored
harried styled fabrication,
although that first decade
found torturous growing up years
more so courtesy
self exclusion from reindeer games,
thus during lunch or recess
(two most favorite classes)

bullies turned me into minced meat
taunted and teased
a severely socially withdrawn boy,
who never shared emotional agony,
he internalized verbal slings and arrows
eventually physically succumbed
from brickbats indiscriminately
lobbed at painfully shy
once upon a time happy go lucky lad,
(with a button nose),

when he whiled away days of his life
as the world turned
first at Lantern Lane
for about a half dozen plus years,
then at 324 Level Road
for approximately
one third of present existence
unbeknownst to him
that psychologically dark shadows
lurked within the outer limits

of the twilight zone
haunting corporeal essence
attached to those lovely bones,
now saddled with excess adipose tissue,
especially around belly of the beast
housing hunger artist
starving for knowledge,
and peopling his overactive imagination
with exemplary protagonists
blithely thwarting incendiary threats,

cuz of natural born defense against
gunning character assassination
courtesy fearsome imbeciles
hell bent on nasty, short and brutish fiends,
who did their collective bidding
vis-à-vis cut throat leviathan,
who overshadowed and locked in
propensity to live free and clear
analogous to unfettered noble savage
cannibalizing yours truly (me) as fancy feast.

Soul asylum salvation sought
as if survivor of mental health challenges  
akin to foreigner trying
to sidestep gingerly self annihilation.

— The End —