"censors" poems
It was an autumn day; a fresh aroma the air.
Breathing in deeply, I was trapped in a snare.
How was I loured into this dangerous trap,
I just was not looking or even aware.
There was a sweet sticky dew tasting like mead,
This honey nectar turned my head to greed.
Losing control I was going out of my mind,
In a strange flower bed, I left my world behind.
Now wondering in a deep psychedelic dream,
I am floating eagerly down a rainbow stream.
Tender fresh flesh standing bold and proud,
Attracting prey with her bright coloured shroud.
Giving in freely, about to be devoured.
My censors telling me I was being deflowered.
There were silky soft hairs all over my skin,
Is a shocking end about to begin?
If no one had noticed I was ensnared in this place,
It may have all ended in humiliation and disgrace.
Now in so deep I have lost all self control,
It was as if a demon had stolen my soul.
Just then a watchful serpent raised its head,
Looking straight at me it hissed and said.
“I can see you; you have had your fun,
Now it is time to pay, or get out and run”.
Shocked out of the dream, I saw my plight,
What he said was true, I made my flight.
Lucky to escape, my advice is here,
If you see a Venus Flytrap,
STAY CLEAR.
Sep 29, 2011
Sep 29, 2011 at 6:19 AM UTC
So This... “ Cancel Culture “...
Now Seems To Be Structured...
To... RESTRICT Numbers...
And Now Be The CONDUCTOR... !!!
of What Folks Say And What Gets Played...
Via TV Or Stage And WHO Gets Paid...
As If THEY Are Some SPECIAL Class...
Who Know How Far Free Speech Should Go... !?!
But It Seems As Though They’re A Little LATE... !!!
Where EXACTLY Were They When The... KKK...
Used To ****** Slaves Just Because of Their Race... !!!
Oh, Because These Days,
Things Have REALLY Changed...
Are These People INSANE...
And NOT Using Their Brains... ?!?
Because We STILL Have SLAVES... !!!
And Heads Who CLEARLY Want To DICTATE...
Are They Cancelling THEM...
Or Doing What THEY SAY... !?!
Or Just Causing PROBLEMS...
Over Gender And Race... ?!?
Well Some It Now Seems...
Who’ve Made BIG MONEY... !!!
Are UNCOMFORTABLE With...
Them... CANCELLING... !!!
When It Comes To Free Speech...
And Indeed The Arts Because of Policies...
That Seem To STINK Like FARTS... !!!
Have They Cancelled BOMBS...
Or RACIST... Sitcoms...
Oh Yes NOW They Have... !!!
AFTER These Shows Have...
Made PLENTY of CASH...
And Been Shown Across Lands...
... INTERNATIONALLY... !!!
On TV’s AND Indeed BIG SCREENS... !!!
REPEATEDLY For The World To See...
So Where Have They Been... ?!?
BEFORE Gender Themes...
And... INEQUALITIES...
Became The Very Fabric of SOCIETIES... ?!?
Where APPARENTLY...
... EVERYBODY Was FREE...
To Be Who They Wanna Be...
Well That’s A FALLACY...
That’s NOT REALITY... !!!
Just Like PIPE DREAMS... !!!
Oh But SUDDENLY... !!!
These New CANCEL POLICE...
Are CANCELLING...
And Now DAMAGING... !!!
The Careers of Those...
Who WON’T Be Controlled... !!!
Like Those Who Speak...
What They Want... FREELY... !!!
So They Can CANCEL ME... !!!
Cos That’s How I NOW BE... !!!
NOT Some HUMAN SHEEP...
For Them To Shepherd And Keep...
In Some PENITENTIARY...
Just Because of Free Speech...
That DOESN’T Tread... “ Lightly “...
Cos’ I ALREADY KNOW...
How... CANCELLING Goes... !!!
Because It’s Really Not New...
It’s What Censors Do... !!!
But Here’s Some TRUTH...
To UPSET Their Crews... !!!
It’s One Rule For THEM...
But NOT The Same For You... !!!
If You’re NOT ONE...
Who’ll Keep Your Mouth SHUT...
To APPEASE These Teams...
Who Now Want TOTAL CONTROL... !!!
That’s Just The Way That The Story Now Goes...
NO Bambi Or THUMPER To Be Some Foot Drummer... !!!
Just A Breed of Vultures...
Now Willing To PUNCTURE...
Careers Like BAD Plumbers... !!!
Whose Force Has A Cause...
Now Trying To ENFORCE..
What Should Be Put ASUNDER...
This... TRULY RIDICULOUS... !!!
..... “ Cancel Culture “..... !!!
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 2:41 AM UTC
Cold Coca Cola at midnight,
Steaming showers and dripping floors,
Meeting her lips in the morning,
And holding her close like I adore.
Surviving without judgement,
And talking without censors,
Absorbing every moment,
Knowing it may not last forever.
Never is it flawless:
Sometimes mistakes call to fights,
But with patience and understanding,
Broken words can mend by night;
Kissing away the burning tears,
And sacrificing time to stay,
Hugging through the creeping fears,
But knowing tomorrow brings a new day.
And never before
Would I have allowed someone this close,
And I know in my heart,
I never want to let this girl go.
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Of Mice and Men along within
Grapes of Wrath Steinbeck be ******
Lenny's rabbits...
What The Bleep Do We Know many runs never end
Of Lenny Bruce a scatological truth
Shock-jocks take clothes off
For censors ships to ignore the shore
Sycamore trees set Lenny Kravitz musical muse at ease
Now whom is the grounded man that lives loves laughs
As if a sailor on a sea of fate with flag at half staff
Know way one passion sit back relax
Seize the big-fish as they attack
Love love love knows know lack
Like Lenny Supak
Sep 2, 2013
Sep 2, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
after witty humour, which spawned slapstick... slapstick can only spawn the last of the known humours... the offensive type, the 'get me out of this straithjacket of everything's fine apathy,' the ugly humour... rude humour... i take oaths humour... i rather write a swear word to oil up than degrade myself with thesaurus usage humour.
why is poetry such a ***** of coding
daily activity...
who needs poetry if the everyday is intact?
atheism didn’t **** god...
it merely killed the logic of myth....
atheism is far worse than mythology...
it just regurgitates facts
to make you submit to them
without the necessary philosophical awe of
finding them interesting...
poetry isn’t dead... it’s a *****
which is worse than death where i come from...
there’s ezra with his fountain comparison:
‘i ****** in it... and put pigmenting chlorine in it -
you **** in it... streaks of blue... i think
that’s called cubism in france.’
did i say alcoholism was engineered by the nazis
for the bomb sarcasm?
cheap humour you say... ah well slapstick was invented
after sarcasam...
i heard the new best anti-ageing cream was butter rather than l’oreal -
there are too many stages in the differences of women,
i quite like the summer spring autumn winter thing going...
it’s like this thing that’s happening right now...
christian nations censor words... like **** cultish **** of the brothel...
and islamic nations invoke words... like kefir (sour milk,
not quite youghurt), dawah... adhan salat abraham...
one party censors words for excess *****
saying: ‘we don’t like swear words in accomplished spelling,
we like dyslexia and **** teen **** graphic...’
sounds about right...
the other party says: ‘we hate censoring ***** words,
that’s doubly censoring,
censor ***** words get more dirt out of it...
we invoke the power of arabic to teach koran latin for
the knobs!’
problem sorted... we’re all power brokers of spelling /
punctuation / arithmetic -
that’s what i don’t get,
the ratio of the two languages...
all you have in the digits A to Z is spelling and punctuation...
but what you have in the digits ZERO to NINE
is so much more...
is grammar a castle that’s keeping certain functions out?
in mathematics you have +, x, obelisk, -, square root, etc.
but in linguistics you have this permament reminder:
SPELL RIGHT FROM WRONG AND RITE FROM THONG.
well... ****** me timbers...
i think i just spotted a lumberjack chequers tweed jacket.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 8:49 PM UTC
I have never allowed myself to abide
by the unfortunate misgivings of
censors and their hollow minds.
I love to abusively use the word ****
and every time I see you with your kids,
I light one up.
Blow smoke in their ****** faces,
then I'll tell your innocent little ********
about the last time I was completely wasted.
See I'm morally opposed to all forms of censorship.
That's why I drive drunk, three stogs in my mouth
and I answer honest when your wee kiddies question it.
"Sir, what's the white powder you have upon your face?"
"That? Oh no worries my little brother
that's just a bit of *******
At some point, I think I lost societal membership
all due to my personal policy.
Simply, **** censorship.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
FFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKK
faded forlorn fractured fragmented
completely de-clinted
traded torn tossed to the trash
canceled check counterfeit cash
broken yet again
just another somewhen
except my fault this time
twas my non-rhyme
how do you go from happier
to happiest
to burst into the worst
have you ever felt the squeeze that crushes the heart of a star
been unable to breathe because of the death of all you are
how do you continue when what you knew isn't true
if love is rendered irrelevant then whatever do you do
scenery never seen
barely even imagined
suddenly miracled me
actually ******* happened
but it abandoned me soon thereafter
never to whisper another chapter
shhhhh don't listen to this
shut up your only kiss
for 7 months fate was my favorite writer
destiny my best-friend editor
then suddenly they were evil censors
love unlucked me faster
than I could even begin to breathe
luck unloved me farther
than even I could ever believe
my fingertips still feel Yur breast
my lingering lips tasting Yur heartbeat
I still feel Yur body pressed to my chest
Yur embrace keeping me safe in my sleep
now all around me
nothings surround me
i am the epitome of empty
cobwebbed memory
a soul's stifled breath
destined for dusty death
how do you exist in the happy happy joy joy world outside
when everything that matters has been crushed inside
how do you explain how everything is worthless
when you've never been worth less
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
It's a charming little song,
A Christmas hit for "Wings"
So what is it that makes me smile,
When Paul McCartney sings?...
Well, I'm afraid that title,
Once had a different sense,
A guideline used by censors,
Who checked films for offence.
The Mull, on maps of Scotland,
Sticks out at an angle,
That was the legal limit,
An actor's "part" could dangle.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
Labyrinth of years
minutes wrapped tight in a spool
he harvested
momentos,
conjured up the proof pumping
gasps of memory
chase
in the scatterings
of recognition in loves station,
having braved a culture
that censors your union.
You retraced those circles
dedicated
pirouetting beside his given
amnesia to a garden of memory
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 9:12 AM UTC
~~~
when between the table and the fridge,
she wishes to pass,
and I,
obstacle roundly present,
am alerted by a gentle squeeze of my ***
happily acknowledging the purposed duality of her
**cheekiest, sweetest,
signal given**
~~~
a food array presented,
paprika colored roasted chicken,
spaghetti squash salted,
salad with cranberries, candy walnuts,
even raisins hidden within and
all before me placed
she objects little,
with eyes silent uplifted
like two pie rollers in striking position,
when I commence to sup,
with my just dessert
of apple crisp,
that by coming first,
is grandly philosophized,
that today,
"the last shall be first"
~~~
she wakes me prematurely,
her only cause, the intruding concept
of her successfully doing the telling,
first one to win the everyday claiming race,
the first to say on this day,
I love you foremost and also,
"haha I win"
**** it**
~~~
miscreant me,
happy loafer,
habitual offender of other things
that the censors here,
would not permit explicitly disclosing,
for which she looks wise away,
mumbling only
"half of his
addiction to cinnamon raisin loaf,
still, far, far, better
than none"
~~~
I know she loves me cause:
1) she likes unfailingly every one of my poems
(a half truth)
2) she loves best, faithfully,
those she loves the best,
that are the ones that release,
without permission asked,
those that come with a side of tissues,
at the ready,
to be emergency issued
those tissues
I call,
the ladies-in-waiting for
the gentlest stream of tears
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 6:00 PM UTC
the empty theater!
the actors
"crowd upon the stage"
but the writer has fled
(afraid of the censors)
the set designer
is working on
setting up a scene
of mass slaughter
and war
replacing pixar imagry
with real bodies
as ordered to
by the WAR MACHINE
people having *** with either ***
indiscriminatingly
and JUSTICE is for sale openly
in the court rooms
and the legislature
the actors cannot play human beings
because they have never
been one or
seen one
the writers have fled sanity
and the censors
the theater is empty now
only the graveyards
have ""clientele"
mother earth is dying
only lovers
like myself
are feeling well
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:51 PM UTC
It all comes together by the thirty firsts, I think,
There was a point,
this is honing that, honest, it connects,
the nature of things is
different
for different things,
the child's empathy with stuffed toys,
try that with a real lizard brain,
when you feel real centered
knowing what manner of men we are,
that it is given unto us to be, and all.
Or be
at all?
Are we cogs, or co-gnostic self willed double minded
beings in a mobmind
doing our idiotic best to make peace
in the confusion, I aided in the development of.
by my lonesome,
I've a military mind,
and I've given that to the causal forces facing war,
in an epic battle, reason to reason
the mystery of iniquity is already at work, and the logos
are
all on my side, all the logos in the feed, are
sending ads to me, paying me,
wee tiny
bits
of attention, not to mention, the viral idea… gone
t'seed as a self, ya gotta love, simplicity,
but not too much.
Jul 21, 2021
Jul 21, 2021 at 8:51 PM UTC
i feel the young have been cheated in terms of history, there's no personality in it, there's no humanity behind it, there's no grandfather behind it, they have all been told they're essential, essentially human, they write it like they were in eden, there's no past, they're passive deniers but active censors... at least i can claim my great grandfather owned a wehrmacht dagger.
as long as he’s housebound he’s safe,
as long as he's censored
he's an export;
the paternal great grandfather was
in the wehrmacht and
the maternal grandfather
was a communist party member;
i guess the weekend starts with
a friday in a club, and ends in
b & q on a sunday combo of blinds
and toilet paper... but i guess
the highlights are gone by then...
don't worry... i'll comfort myself.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power.
Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.
And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression.
And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission.
How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.
I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.
Alan Moore, V for Vendetta
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
oh, are you scared to be a little
pumpernickel buttocks readied to be baked?
mm, mm hmm, i bet you
are... i bet you have gingerbread legs
readied for a sprint, that will only
add the necessary crunch: like blueberry
jam in a muffin, toothpick blues
of disuse when the fingers are licked.
huh?! when was baking synonymous with horror?
should i send for the psychiatric paramedics?
you're talking spaghetti helter skelter!
will that be a salad entrée too? i know you're
sensitive, ask your daddy's daddy why he's
censoring right-wing politics and i'll just say this:
use the rhubarb and make the ******* crumble!
because we have psychiatric "specialists" running
around without censors, educated in something
else, resorting to feeding their self-esteem with
vague knowledge of psychology, and they're not
even considered mad... they're the mad ones...
they think all philosophical prose is a crossword
undecipherable jumble!
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
the empty theater!
the actors
"crowd upon the stage"
but the writer has fled
(afraid of the censors)
the set designer
is working on
setting up a scene
of mass slaughter
and war
replacing pixar imagry
with real bodies
as ordered to
by the WAR MACHINE
people having *** with either ***
indiscriminatingly
and JUSTICE is for sale openly
in the court rooms
and the legislature
the actors cannot play human beings
because they have never
been one or
seen one
the writers have fled sanity
and the censors
the theater is empty now
only the graveyards
have ""clientele"
mother earth is dying
only lovers
like myself
are feeling well
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
The censors are in
And the mad houses
Have been unlocked
For the carnival
Friends and former
Lovers embrace your
Bodies and watch the
Clouds billow in the distance
For the background is
Always more beautiful
Then the horrid
Foreground
Not in this hour
But the next there
Will be social
Justice!
There will be a fire
To be put out that
All the masses of the
World can see and
Truly understand and
Articulate!
As of right now,
SGT. BECHER is
Blasting his horn in my
Right ear, causing
Blood hemorages of
Every type and sort
But what of love!
What of pure hate!
What of a human race
Born into INHUMANITY
Legions of snarling dogs
Licking their chops for
The next fix that will COME
But not
SUFFICE
Consumption is a word
No one
Will's to understand
Small has always
Equaled weak
And the born strong
Will never back peddle
In evolution
It just
Isn't
Done
So to abide the wealthy
Warmongers piling
Ammunition on top of
And inside their
Grandmother's brazers!
Is to let them win a
Game they were meant to
Win ANYWAY
Roads were meant to be walked on
Mountains meant to be conquered
But people,
What were we
Meant to do
With
Ourselves?
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
Your trailing starlight woven with silver needles
Enters the mundane life of human days;
And magical tongue recounts miracles uncounted,
In magnitudes of unexpected ways.
Your vision never balks at walls or ceilings;
An artist's heart is not like other things,
The words like hope in slowly burning censors
Take to the sky, once given freedom's wings.
Jul 30, 2010
Jul 30, 2010 at 4:43 PM UTC
Poetry and music
are the flowers of our Father
Mother’s eyes are serpents
and she binds them to her daughters
keepers of the dawn
dream their longing into song
only freedom and vision
can balance the Giver's mission
while wise women give birth to warriors
sages offer seeds and silence to the Sun
burning candles and incense
water bowls are filled with floating petals
and copious copal censors
recklessly shape-shift
into sparkling moonstone necklaces
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 8:01 PM UTC
Do you ever just want to lay down and cry?
To lock the doors and forget-
That tank outside?
Do you ever just want to abandon your pride?
And tell him your hurting and pleading inside?
Depleting. Putrid-
The only way to describe
This feeling I'm wheeling
And fighting to hide.
Do you ever just want to lay down and cry?
To dismember the censors
And surrender this time?
Jun 22, 2010
Jun 22, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
Asylum
Inspectors issuing warrants that are random
Perjury
Attempts of hailing proses censors don’t approve
Persecution
Despite torture, not asking for absolution
Fugitive
Escaping chains and saws that critics use on me
Refugee
I’m hoping for permanent status on HePo
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
I.
A guy was sent from East Germany to work in Siberia.
He knew his mail would be read by censors, so he told his friends,
Lets establish a code.
If the letter you get from me is written in blue ink,
it is true what I say,
if it is written in red ink,
it is false.
After a month his friends got the first letter.
It says, this letter: Everything is wonderful here,
Stores are full of good food,
Movie theaters show good films from the west,
Apartments are large and luxurious but,
The only thing you can not buy is,
Red ink.
This is how we live.
We have all the freedoms we want,
But what we are missing is red ink -
- the language to articulate our non-freedom.
II.
So then I was moved.
The pink and yellow bundle in the mothers arms,
Cuts three figures though the barren concrete landscape,
Son and wife and finally mother,
United in South Korea.
Frost in every breath,
A tight escape.
Warm soup around the table because,
Only mother know the pain of birth.
The raft did not fail this time and she showed up in a,
Yellow scarf.
Mother will be happy to learn the new ways,
Of feeding children soup.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 12:20 AM UTC