Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sarah Meow Apr 2012
I asked my mother for a glass kaleidoscope,
but instead she handed me three shots of wine
and a field guide to running galactic bases,
which I guess is her way of selling dreams
at low prices. I have yet to understand a coffee shop's symmetry,
so I embrace the scrupulous company of a dragon-riding-a-butterfly.

One spin around the Milky Way leaves the butterfly
with holey wings and the dragon vomiting in my make-shift kaleidoscope.
The apple tree in the corner of the living room ruins the symmetry
of the space and I have to chug another glass of wine
to make up for the peach tree I couldn't dream
about and another wrong note sung by the basses.

The song's in too low of a key, which is the basis
behind the evil chinchilla's plan to mass-produce butterfly
farms as part of a larger goal to pillage the dreams
of dreamers. Luckily, we all have a handy-dandy kaleidoscope
and a bag (or two) of bitter-tasting wine
stolen from their boxes -- too much symmetry.

My brother put a block on local news; the symmetry
of our county's border was too much for me to bear. He bases
his action (when mother asks) on the wine
he didn't drink, so I throw the broken butterfly
out the window where it lands on my nephew's spinning kaleidoscope.
He doesn't know it yet, but that drum he's banging will envelop his dreams.

A hike to the top of the cliff (a leap) re-energizes my dreams
and I still can't relate to the maple leaves and their symmetry,
but at least I can look through a lampshade at the kaleidoscope
of trees dancing below me. There are seven thousand bases
yet to run and they still haven't caught the butterfly,
so a boy yells, "Drink!" and I take another sip of wine.

The dragon and chinchilla are tipsy from the wine
at this point and discuss the difference between dreams
and electricity while my mother sautés the butterfly
in ice cream and abstract ideas. The symmetry
of my right ankle is still a bother, so I tell the basses
to sing a quarter tone flat while I collide a scope.

Off goes dragon-with-butterfly (once again) and I finish the wine.
I make my nephew a chinchilla-skin kaleidoscope and rinse the rocks stained with dreams.
My mother comments on the apple tree's symmetry while the trees below keep running bases.
Madison Claire Jan 2015
I love the way you laugh.
It sounds like a dog throwing up.

I want to run my hands through your hair.
I bet it's as soft as a chinchilla's fur.

I love your height.
How it makes you look like you're the genetic product of Nick Jonas and a giraffe.

I love your eyes.
You're so full of ****, that even your eyes are brown.
send this to your crush with no context. or someone you hate. or both. unless your crush is someone you hate.
Joey Zimmerman Dec 2010
Why are you here
What is your importance
How were you created
Does it feel emotions
Is it excited that I’m here
He recognizes that I’m living
And that I can interact
Having something else to interact with
I think that makes him happy

He’s running
From the back of his cage
To his wheel
And then he returns to the feed
That’s all we’re doing
Except our idea of a “cage”
Is much larger

He scratches out of the cage
For what looked like a corn nugget
I picked it up and gave it to his hands
And he took it
Sat and ate

I just helped that animal
It couldn’t reach the nugget
And that made him sad
Because it’s something he can usually get
But when it’s out of his reach
His internal cycle missteps
Causing him to break down

He jumped on the side of the cage
Revealing his genitals
Shaking them is somewhat of a snooty fashion
Does he know what humor is
It doesn’t have cognitive thinking
It can’t decide for itself
Why did it do that
For what purpose
What is driving this animal to do anything at all
What is the significance of its existence


How were you made
What the hell are you
Humor, sadness, joy
Can it feel all emotions
It’s so basic
So simple
Does he only feel one emotion
One emotion
All the time
I am such a complex human being
I can’t even image a life
An existence
Where I only have one emotion

And that’s what makes us special
And that’s what makes us human
Robin Carretti Feb 2019
Hey, another week whispers love to win "W" That womanly wonder I need to take a step back to "V"  just need to vent out.
I'm here not over there? Medieval times "Roman Festival" of love
I have to catch up to get to V- Valentine things are the sublime wake up take a bite the "Viennese Whirls" biscuit "The Cats Meow"
The Siamese to suit me just fine. The Valentine recruit her day of pursuit. Her lower V back to her higher love loot plays up to her **** and boots.

A victory versus the villain Mama Mia striking gold but I am a face to red like grapes. The Italian Villa making love in her red hot chinchilla. But somewhere over her sheer rainbow, he got sidetracked all the way she looks divine in her "Rosy" slingback chair. Read my lips go smack CD track "V-Valiant" multiplying like ants. She flaunts herself such a venom demonstration. The biblical (V)-sword wins her love sentimental. What aims the bow and arrow a heart is her V village daring. Quite shocking and alarming the poems red silk ties her love force the light shines romantically warm red. V Virtual reality Strawbery Sponge cake.

Her V-Valentine the first day she met him. Where she came from will we ever know? What's in the card do we win or lose to know what in store for you?

You will get to know me 
The sweets got her set
The bittersweets only yet
Plays the different drum
The Valiant V venture
Hum all *** about him
The ricochet "Russian *****"

This is not the end of the alphabet
zoomed in like the Zebra
You got me V for Visa
But Y where did the
( L)_ go we are losing some??
Alphabets 
More victories firelight sunset

Lionhearted heroic I bet
Did you throw me into Lion's den?
Refresh my L- love ******
"O" only roses pink/red sonic
Zippety do day happier
V Day the wine glasses
L-O-V- E Ecstacy

I suppose another tempting
Dose V vitamins
"Valiant Rose" Face
Such velocity
I feel pretty dancing
high castles
   "Valentine"

 Herbivore love me messy
Victorian sleeping beauty
Rose Kiss Hibiscus
Vampire rosebuds
Cherubs ****** red
Red Mercedes
Hubs of love
husbands

For the "Valiant Smart ladies"
High society noses
Pluto-Venus Starwars
V Valentino and their singles
Cappuccino in Italy Portofino
Chic centerfold V candles
Damask Rose pretentious pose

She's the V Voluptuous
Red devil ventriloquist
Pink/Wink Strawberry mousse
The Bulgarian with her cute
Pomeranian and spouse
Elephant Tusk smells
of musk E-love

"Marilyn Monroe" baguettes
Yves The Saint Laurent
So Valiant bond deep
Cut thorns of Reds
Bergdorf Blondes and
Brunettes
Valentine duet V-shape
Headset  vivacious escapes
So mindset
Never forget the one day

February 14 your
Valentine ring
heartedly set
Salute to the cadet
This is the sweet smell of Valentines day or any day that you have plenty of loving your heart will tell you don't lose that feeling be the mindset to take a sip of coffee to melt your heart inside his love words
Teddy S Jan 2021
I want to go live in a cottage in the woods
By myself with a few pets here and there
My friends would live not too far and would visit every day
My family would visit once a month and only on holidays,
Except for my extended family who would not ever come to my house, I’d only see them at theirs
I would have a cat, a bunny, and a dog
Maybe a chinchilla
I could bake cakes, cookies, and pies by the window in the kitchen
I could have a garden filled with flowers and fruits
I could have a stone pathway leading to my house
I could practice my witchcraft in peace and live happily on my own
I usually close my eyes to imagine this perfect place
Where I can dance in the rain and watch Studio Ghibli every day
I hope that I can have that one day,
To live peacefully on my own without a care in the world
zebra Oct 2017
there we were
me and my girl
Vavavavoom
speeding on a curving dark road

she
silky luscious
falling all over me
like a chinchilla fur

it was a menacing and stormy night
we pulled up
to the dimly neon lighted
Rag **** Paradise Motel
and adjacent diner
the Creepy Pasta Restaurant
that looked like a blinking furnace
where reality doesn't care what happens
and hemorrhages chaos
like a flushing toilet
at the end of the line

a location
that only exists for a few minutes
planted to create an illusion
to nourish self deception
a crime without a criminal
a continuity of the nothing
yet in it
an inevitable unfolding of consequences
like a scream scattered throughout the cosmos

a good place to curl up for the night
a point of departure on a lumpy rolling bed
as we vanished beneath the sheets
Inspired Jean Baudrillard
ClawedBeauty101 Nov 2017
October, 27, 2017 (Friday)*

Flying down the open empty road, unaware of the surprise attack waiting for us ahead as we continued to drive.

My eyes set on the left side of the road, low like the cold temperature of the wind who's warmth couldn't be revived

A light breath of snowflakes swept over the road like floating silk as my eyes were stolen for a moment by a small feathered creature

Closed up like a rabbit in it's hollow, frozen like fish trapped in a sheet of ice, trembling like death was its new teacher

It was only a blink of a moment I saw it, and a gap of years seemed to rotate around this trap of love

"Mom.. I think that was an owl..." I said with my voice almost in a whispering disbelief. My hand giving her arm a wheel turning shove

"What should we do?" She said as if I was the higher authority. I turned my head to look back, in the opposite direction of the car.

"Turn around..." My mind got into a conflict with those words... I'd be late for work... That didn't worry me, even though we weren't that far...

I didn't know how much longer the animal of sky and flight could handle the harshness of Octobers cold shoulder.

I felt her foot slowly increase it's pressure onto the brakes, her small stormy Toyota turning around, being forced to submit to her.

Approaching slowly, the road was surprisingly empty and alone.  My pupils motionless as they starred

For a minute I believed the lies that I was being an idiot. My mind was tricked into thinking it was a small thick branch with many lairs.

But the truth screamed louder than the wind's howl as shards of ice and snow caused it's feathers to **** outward

To shield his small fragile body. My mind went blank, amazed to be able to steal this opportunity, the car slowly moved downward

Into a gravel driveway, that rested next to a stand. I removed my pink hoodie and inserted myself into the dangers of being alone

Begging and praying in my head to my Lord for guidance, I crossed the wide road, my soul knowing who was in control

  I crept behind the railing and as quickly and quietly as possible I approached it.

Numbed to my existence. It's head in a stage of black and deathly hibernation, I could see it's dying spirit

Lightly, I tossed the bright magenta hoodie over it like a net. A little hop was it's only reaction

I swung my legs over the railing and carefully surrounded it with my hoodie and hands, longing to show it passion.

But it's little strong black claws  fearfully grasped onto the cracks in the road. Like a hook trapped within the jaws of a fish.

I could feel nothing... Only the loud threatening heart beats within me, giving my bangs a swish.

With the steady guidance of patience, my shaking fingers removed his terrifying grip, and quickly swaddled him.

I carried him like a newborn infant as I cautiously recrossed the road, feeling my soul has met natures grim.

We both inserted ourselves into the heat blasting automobile, my mother gasped when she saw the little feathered screech owl cradled in my arms

Still trapped by hibernation's drug. I held him close to the heated vents,  hoping that life will be surrendered to the side of the warm.

His feathers were in several shades of tree bark brown, he had two little feathered peaks that looked like horns to a crown

Softer then even the silkiest chinchilla,  his eyes were closed, but within minutes, only the eye lashes of his right eye flickered around

Suddenly, time revolved around the neck of him, for he turned his head right towards me, and his right eye of sun bursting glow revealed its self to me.

My blood stopped pumping, my lungs shut down, my heart trapped in ice, my eyes making contact with his, feeling like a ship lost at sea.

One of Nature's King of the sky finally awakened, but what was his next move? For these little beast were proud and protective over their bodies

Where their wings have soared over, they claim as theirs, They have used their beaks and claws as weapons against my kind. They have been given the label of being naughty.  

Was I it's next victim? Was this choice a blood dripping trap? Was adoring my Lord's creation a mistake?

The Lord brought this little one in my path for a reason, how can I doubt His plan? For this moment, He wanted me to take.

It's round smooth moving head looked to the left, and then to the right, and then back at me, it's little eye blinking, and very tired

It jumped! But jumped closer into me. It's white and light brown feathered chest against mine. It's head cuddled right into my fingers like a tangled wire.

Softly and lightly I petted it's super soft silky small head, seeing his one eye going into a happy squint.

It only cuddled more and more, demanding more of this sweet affection. His eye gave me that hint

Soon, he started to wander around on my legs, exploring all of this high technology unknown to nature

Flew about a few times to test and experience the ways of human beings, his wings stretched out and soared like sliding glaciers

Once we approached our destination of a recuse center, his curiosity grew as he bonked his head against the dashboard window. The poor thing!

He looked at me, feeling shameful, and filled with stupidity as he flew to my lower arm, and then my elbow that was up high. He nested into it like a king.

He remained there and studied me, his eye never looking away. My soul was at peace until it lashed open it's left eye. My sight got drilled

It was only for an image of a second that I saw that bright red, dark purple, and indigo eye. His left eye was blood filled.

He quickly closed it and snuggled closer to my chest. I felt a hollow part of me being revealed and filled with grace

It's funny how the Lord planned everything out, how he allowed me to experience this sweet heart capturing moment of this wild owl's gentle face.

My Hallow, the name suits you well. For it was an honor for our Holy creator to allow me to interact with the forest beast of flight

A hollow part of me was realized and filled. A desire, a new way to make my Creator made known... through your opposite personality of fight

Permanently blind in your right eye, but your spirit is still sweet and calm to only me. Yours wings still spread like the wide flames of a wild fire

Your unique different colored eyes beaming with adorable sweet love. But also determination that is deep and dire.

You're small, but even our God used David to defeat Goliath. You're an animal, but God used a Donkey to lead Balaam away from danger!

You may not be normal again, but the Lord can still use you, for He has used you and many other animals in my life, although I was a stranger

Hallow, the Blood Filled Eye Screech Owl, I won't allow this lesson to be stolen from me, the lesson of freedom, wisdom, and trust.

The Lord will call us to do the craziest, weirdest, most unbelievable things at times. We shouldn't let these test turn to dust

and if the Lord called me to do something like this again...

*I'd do it in a heart beat...
Thank you Sarah Walker for teaching me about birds
Thanks Colin for Teaching me about death hibernation
Thank You Schafers for allowing me to come a day early to work because if that didn't happen, I wouldn't have seen him
Thank you Mom for helping me with Hallow
Thank you L's, for I wouldn't have seen him If I didn't so happen to look at your house XD
Thank You to the Rescue Center that is helping me take care of him.

If it wasn't for any of these people, I don't know what would have happen.
So... Thank You :)
Ryan Clark Dec 2012
The sky so blue.
Sun tinted by shades.
With nothing to do,
Just lounging the day.

The guitar strings;
Music gently flies .
Like the brisk of wind.
Sweet summer; July

The hammock sways
in blissful breeze.
A day of days,
a heavenly dream.

And where am I,
on such a lovely day?
I'm just chilling...
Like a chinchilla
An old poem I recently found. I think I was in HS at the time. Probably could have ended it after the 8th line
Maryanne M Jan 2013
Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate
I like it Joe...

My soles rested on this cotton-white candy land
Unsure if it was the cold touch of these featherbeds
Or the flakes of hesitation that brought chills
Into my clueless mind

Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate
I like it Joe...

This 1945 song played over and over in my head
As if it helped lessen the shame and discomfort
That was traveling from the tip of my toe
To each in every active follicle of my hair

Ah, I savored the strange moment that it was
Of what I considered triumph. Strange,
That I even felt achieved in this strange land
When the real war of time and belief is yet to come

I wore Chinchilla coats over my dignity
Yet to me, every stride was irrelevant
An account for differences, even partiality
The Dr Pepper in my hand seemed out of place or was I?

The white backdrop where I was standing
Only served to amplify my striking shade
And how fool I was to even think
That the landlords would consider me germane?

Who was I to even presume acceptance
When their own predilection as old as time still lives?
Is it perfidiousness to long a taste of a miracle
In the land of dreams?

Give me cigarettes, give me chocolate
I like it Joe...
Inspired by Handiedan's art AMO No. 1.
Yazad Tafti Mar 2021
chinchilla eyes which gleam like luxurious sand vulcanized marble
pouty lips
dripping with gravy
on your poutine lips
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
All he Oh! Ee-ee easy-does-it
Swift mastery_Crazy-has - its
shape me-energy love form
True witness philosophy
Silently neck to neck sadness
her pearls split pulled
her down into poverty

The emergency, madness
the young ones or wild ones
fertility all pearls majesty
of greatness
innocently, existentially
Her down-side persistently
lift divinely hands Manly-lovely

        (Pearl jewelry box)
His swift moves love ecstasy
My swift lift any of so many
True Fox another Lift- to see
Eyes to his left territory his turf

He is the lefty so pearly for her
So cultured girly pearly
Those were the days dosing off
My friends all daisy
*    _    _    _ *  _    _    _    

What a phaseout/ lazy fuse
But perk me up pink pearls
of white
His swift moves took a day off
Trying so hard to be polite
Hands work into tandem
Her rhythm Pearly  kingdom
She chopped him
like chop suey
Her skin on the bread rise
All floured white specks

Pearly spa cream perfect
Facelift Eeey foggy day in
London pearly glow
rainy town

Everything turned like a
A cafe without the group
Well cultured Dowop
The pearl paint swirl crop
The heroes and beloved
In the Holy Land

Come to me casual softly
spoken lend me your hand
pearly gloves
The pearl potential
the feeling mutual
Fitting and tasseled roped
into the musical
Swift flowing hair's no rings
 attached
to the back of our chairs

The darkness of the lover  
The black/gray pearls two pairs
Spiritual mundane existence
Karmic cycle her game portal
Spiritual plan of ritual

Eating pearl white chocolate morsels

The Steam, dream, in between,
Fundamental not comical
Something in the way she knows
Not really superhuman star how
it faded or belated feel be traded
She submerged beyond mortal

In her Galley cooking up
French cream sauce how
it sparkled Eeey milky
Ms. Mallery was pearlized
so traumatized so sulky
by his presence

Hides her pearl key-note
In her swift lift
(Artsy Gallery)
His face blended into the
pearl all framed

All the pearly Wedgewood
plates looking glass
world gates
Pearly cream color stage duet
To the sun pearly necklace
Cost her a delicate cream neck
Her Spa Tra  he hands her la la
Eeey milky honey smile
Hot MaMa
pearly text me trail

Her emails mount Fuji
Her striking pearls got to his heart
The film hum yum bite
The pearl jam flew
The big show nibble
Her bible she felt gullible
The words deepened ******
But the soft low key
Key lime mixed with coconut
           *Pearl
Hey?
So swiftly swirled vanilla sky
sold her photograph
and chinchilla

The Seashell cottage her
footprints 'Pearl Rock" band

She was devoted to him truly
Pearl pledge was our duty
Swiftly mixed the marbelized
white/cream floor loved
and cared for protected
The Dr. pearl met Melody
Money like commodity
The patients pearled better care

With her  Moms, pearls mixing twirls
On his trimming suits cuffs of pearls
She was the pies smile every day
Swift honey eyes Winnie the Pooh

But more adult Eeeey truly I love you
Her silken strand's tightrope loop
Her power pearl British Colony
of Hong Kong exile

Morning draped dawn
The Chelsea ride of dusk
  Her favorite hint of
(Pearl Rose)
The musk elephant pearls
on his tusk
High up her pearly stocking,
Like her pride, was rocking
he took out the joy of her gift

The writing clause feathered
pearl drops the pen took her
dream away like a truce
The Gods know they love
The Gleam through her
windows
Left a strand of her starry
eyes of pearls were shut closed
So swift or we feel we cannot move into something right. Whether in the daylights or night its a culture of things to come in love form or necklace we must face the beauty or have more love tolerance change the duty
Krishna Mehra Jul 2018
When light was treading the horizons of darkness
When leaves were rustling in zephyr
When butterflies were fluttering across the wilderness
When foamy flakes were shimmering like eyes of a heifer

I saw her; a noble matron
Enjoying the alluring aroma of rose
Her eyes were glistening like a naked natron
Sitting like my mother; in a statuesque pose

She gently drew me closer
And served my past as ambrosia
And told me to drink the elixir of present for future
Then like my mother, she gave me a bunch of gloriosa

As she started climbing the stairs to Shangri-La
My dream ended as I tossed and turned under the sheet of chinchilla.
Was she my mother?
I tried writing a sonnet.  The rhyne scheme is abab cdcd efef gg
I hope that our kids inherit our sense of humor,
and the sense of what a smile truly means,
I hope they inherit your stature so that people know they can trust them,
breathe, and just feel safe,
my fiery passion, partnered with your leaps and bounds of compassion.
I hope they have the same caring and understanding,
that I see in your eyes, along with the green and gold flecks of mine.
I hope they inherit my singing voice that tugs at your heartstrings,
and for their sakes I hope they have your dance skills,
and that my clumsy gene manages to skip a few generations.
I hope they have your sturdy, healing hands, covered in my soft chinchilla skin.
I hope they have your seemingly endless heart and never have to experience any of my pains.
Your plump perfect lips and our thick blonde hair.
Your strong sense of self and ability to look at all sides, but just a bit of my indecisiveness.
Our spontaneity and your good ideas.
Your love of breakfast and our courageous spirits but maybe,
Your cautious driving habits.
Your Smile that makes me melt, but ****,
if they do we are going to have some heartbreakers on our hands.
<3
A ride today in Des Moines
that appraise law and counteract
any that country may enact
where Wichita lineman forthwith

and mackinaw shall really embellish
furthermore with Granny Smith
awhile down stream on a riverboat
that foregoing is never behind

where a river is always wide
and bourgeois with a paddle wheel stride
why his atropine smile
reach the delta with such desire
and let him take the home route

in an abode of parish shanty
where river dance makes day long  
a simple beast, a man

with chinchilla wrap round his neck
that sweep her off flourishing deck
these stratospheric ideals now  
for sovereign witness entail campaign.
The fool by the window
Who’s too emasculated to be alleviated
Who lives by the shadow
With no one noticing what he has initiated

The fool by the window
who’s very elated of a single scintilla
Who symbolises a ******
Who feels as dumb as a chinchilla

The fool by the window
Who only needs a listening ear
But keeps himself alone
Because he believes no one is to be trusted near.
Robin Carretti May 2018
She was in the Villa

Wearing her fine long

Chinchilla writing for the good fellow
Highlight bright me yellow
The Fairytale Fae
Dunaway, I wouldn't
Bonnie and Clyde this
runaway
poem

The death to be book part she

noticed a sliding door
A- heart
B- Smart
C- Part
D- Dart
E- Eventually until the writing
Do us heart


Be smart inside the secret door

Her Long petticoat laced

Got caught in his picture frame

His eyes were thick to book her
Writing match game

Oh! Sir Do us heart

The stock exchange of books
to be laid she took yours

English Tudor book house
of maid's took hers
Writing so many books
But not getting paid

Then she heard a knock
at her door

A distinguished gentleman
she raised

her brow and heard a shout
her tea whistled

So wary he looked bristled
and she was

book disheveled the wall
opened itself whoa!!

Until the
magician

The reaction eternal love_
Nocturnal flying dove


The white snowed in gloves
Wolf blew in gas jet stoves
Strong heart to fire blow
Writing game of the
Gulf of Mexico

The Golf clubs
The chosen book fall inside her
victorian tub
He drove right in
Rub a dub tub

But her book was not
completed
He was beside himself
Until the Gin

Life so unsuspected,

did you really expect it


Until death do us part

Inside the painting,
the book moved

  She stared like she got shoved
the key locked
Both hearts

Could play like objects an
"Operetta"

A literary write until the death do

us part be heart she was flushed

Old spirited La Gazette her name

is Suzette exercising her words

So Owl like but the ghostly writer

of crimes took over distressed

Digging on ten commandments

She only wanted compliments

She pulled the lever but she

felt hotter with his fever

There were all books
in a vault

Who is the mystery writer
at fault?

Ownership of books

more than there wifes



Their life's bonded together
like love to the end
those bookends.

Moving Mass Einstein
She is so vain Carly Simon
The song and book is
about her


So purrfect that all depends

Like two trenchcoat's

with author suits on a hook

Religiously Zen, but with
ulterior motives

books arrived in ten

Her home interior
so bright eyes

so enthusiastic but he
was inferior

with the ballpoint pen,
he pressed her

Like a Depp actor mind
way ahead

So for long such sadness,

I'll be ****** Scarlets
Dark flowers death
her scar fits

North to South
The writer moved to
Charlotte come to me my
writer's suspense me

Goth book #13 never
on a Friday
The 6 day of the month
she took 6 books out
she turned to the side 6 men
mesmerized conked out
They got hooked 666
books


Heavy necklace weighed her down

That chain reaction her
writers' block

She was stuck in his room by his

hands of the clock

Her long life pause her
short book clause

And he's her spouse?
Like a bookmark,

her tongue traveled but

to notice another
sliding door

"Out of life"

"Not One life"

(Born to die)

Give something

A book to die for

But who do we live for?

Like a Jalapeno hell
of reading so blunt

Fashionably late Mr.Valentino
book hunt

So fitting lifestyle
  Florence her Coffee
(Nightingale)
table for two
(light-in-Male)

"BeBook" holder

Two in the nook
Writing our hearts
2B perfectly lined
Writing  became the
crime
Drinking Lime with
the Kooks
of coconuts

2 death be us part
Words were spreading
Because I am nearer
Anderson window sill
Seeing Bill

conquering and
masquerading
his words
hummingbirds
stronger than his real
heart

"The love camera
"Writing new start

Tarantino
Near the Islands of
Portofino

more book wiser

What holds to her grace of
"Florentino"

books are like flavors

The wine and book taste like
Gallo Hello___Heart
Writers are challenging it's an art we open up many hearts to find the right words.Having all type of heartbeats let's give our writers a hand. You know what to do start writing let people know how you feel
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
Next then now, then next
no line, no dot, nothing now

time passes, came to pass,
as a near answer, a near new
point from which to view now.


In my case, my time as part,
smallest difference made,

the air you breathe, once,
I breathed into, and once,

I made you think yourself,
become a being I am not, but

then,
time,
and chance, all things working,
being, by gone, on gone working
to gather the momentum to make
time stretch into another whole mo-
ment, monumental pillar of earth salt.

At this point, next seems inevitable.
So we wait.
Thinking a next like this next one,
has never had a state of being common.

What - all ifery asks, if, imagined, seen, see

we agree and proceed to see, so time's
essence is momentarily mental, we think,
therefore we do many mental moments, we
think we would, or could or should be ready
for ever to cease forming myself, from myself,

slowing time, to myself, for myself, taking mine
and forming some for you to use, to take a second

order of packeted eventuality, side-tracked,
to let the important news of many deaths elsewhere,
make us agree to become so much better informed,

buy the best life has on offer, ready,
read the instructions.
{ lifetime acheivement, never reached}
Chiefest among missers of the mark.

Of course, in the course of human events,
from the playing fields of Eton, to the battlefields
of Afghanistan, what power reigns supreme?
- The Lion came, and brought the Tiger,
- the Bear came, and left, and then the Rat,
- or the Weasle, we can even see a Squirrel
- in the role of first worst case scenario on offer.
VOG - quiet on set, quiet back stage,
mind reengage tongue, taste the fertile reality, who
and what we are, enjoyment, actually, being, mere joy,
ahoy, adrift in all our otherwords, set idle by our tech-logic
- What fear rules the man who has learned his role?
Broken leg, reversed cursing, blessing God, just in case.

-- A day, Ivan Denisovich, Zeks, yes,
man's inhumanity to man, and best layed plans

plotted course of concentration, minds meld, given
incentive to spill over the banks of the feeder canals,

as the hermit's cistern in the Lagunas, topped it's edge,
and he sighs, thinking, so it is, you got a cistern,
I gotta cistern, if yours were to overflow,
it is your fault, or your glory for the joy, in the streets
in the summer,
in the city, back o' yo' neck red and sweaty, you dig,
you become worthy of the daily bread we are given
for righteous duty done, did I do, or did you, did we

sing along with the bouncing ball, did we all?

Thinking, all we do is wait,
becoming old, we wait to finish thinking,
thinking old, old, olden days, before letters,
before
knowing, being nothing, becoming this, these
lines of lettering linking noises used among us
to carry thought from me, myself and I, to you,

the one other at the moment, in the state,
what if, what if, what if nothing makes more
difference than you, one of us, one in our once

in an unbroken history of science and philosophy,
our hours of confluency, our instants in shared
learning, minutes of life's use, as used to make us
up from nothing… to think about a series of every

expansion to our sense of connectedness, seeing
we lieve being true, first proof the priests do lie,

first proof the chaos is not evil, but essential
patient zero, paradigm,
"logical or conceptual structure
serving as a form of thought
within a given area
of experience," Kuhn, perhaps, aligned

any worth, any value, any cost or price,
eventually, any time is too short.
Any vessle filled with experiential wonders
projected on reflective walls, six ways walled.
windowed and doored.

In parts, in passing, taking offerings
left in pasts for hungry spirits, urging

answer seeking, seeming endless, whying,
ifing, framing forms for fitting twos to ones,

as when we agree, we form a two headed
thing, with we agreeing meatily to work
as carnal minds do, given set and setting,

inform a vessle for holding self evidence.

Governing systems, blindman crosswalks,
mandated, ai, remote eye aware, are we,
seeing from television, new form, digitized
bit maps of surprising resolution, if one re-
members learning lessons of scale, how tall,
how small, the ratio, this pattern of whorls,

and that, fingerprint from some once in ever,
there, we all see it, so huge we lack the frame
of referrence, we cannot bear the weight of knowing

we are the tipped point on our wave's recourse
around the laws serving stanchion roles in god's houses.

Pillars formed from promises, to those who find the time,
now, in a given day,
plain old everyday summertime, growing time, passing
as quaint, handcrafted meditation stations, desert fathers,

have we any wool, yessir, yessir, three bags full,
master, dame, and some poor spinner
who lives down the lane… earning daily bread,
as penance for being born in sin, losing all the good God
had planned, I' know a guy,
he can tell this story,
as a called and reconnected son, of God.

And the likelihood, actuarially, as tithes passed,
interesting, heft, umph, to the indulgent users, knowing
good and evil, evil is lazy money, doing no man any good.

Knowing how to grow more money, Midas, reminds,
as do many voices from the tombs, liars prosperity changes

legends, shapes myths, fixes history just so, at the instant,
we knew, we all knew, at once, everything,
is after ever before,
and we have stores of knowns, unbeknownst,
arranged in time and alpha beth order, for habitual
referrence, you know, we all know religions are powers
wielded by Ideal candidates, chosen children, and broken
old ladies,
what mystery is more mysterious than they,
the power they rewield as time stamps, proof, there

that guy was a witness, and he was not there,
on the stair, I
sat, imagining I remembered that, and found it odd.

I have been lied to, and I have lied, to you, I do,
naturally, I am of that class of sapient things, I can
lie, if lying leads the mark into the mark-et try and do,

do, indeed, Yoda, wink. Done, and beheld, now, that
is time well spent.

AND there's more…

Meta Kuhnian Crisis Paradigm.

Four nickles, two dimes, time was,
two novels, or four one reel peep shows,
-SECOND COMING TYPE- ten 2 cent papers
WAR CALLS
PEACE-
times means for holding a cultural bubble,
intact, sticky in fact, tacky to the touch,

RSO and blue stripes… settled hermit state,
from a granite lip of a feng shui breeze,
AI, what do I know - in summary,
a procession
Summarizer
The Structure of Scientific Revolutions is a book written by philosopher Thomas S. Kuhn in 1962.12 Kuhn argued that scientific advancement is not linear, but rather a series of peaceful interludes punctuated by intellectually violent revolutions, where one conceptual world view is replaced by another.3 The book offers a general pattern of scientific change, where inquiries in a given field start with a clash of different perspectives.1 Eventually, one approach manages to resolve some concrete issue, and investigators concur in pursuing it—they follow the "paradigm." Kuhn challenged long-standing linear notions of scientific progress, arguing that transformative ideas don't arise from the day-to-day, gradual process of experimentation and data accumulation, but that the revolutions in science, those breakthrough moments that disrupt accepted thinking and offer unanticipated ideas, occur outside of "normal science." The historical process of science is divided into three stages: a "normal" stage, followed by "crisis" and then "revolutionary" stages.0

Of my own volition, if one were to assume
one of my stations in life could possibly know my own will,
revolunteered to lead a raid behind the lines,
out of loyalty to a bucket list
perfect cow dismemberment, check,
tear a sacred cow to shreds and leave it to be ciphered out,
by farmers living high on the Teapot Dome affair,
and its coincidence to great social reformation,
- steam roll, electric mind of Tesla
- and all the unsung genius under Edison, into one,
- as the online entity with roots back to BBS and
- dial tone tricks of a switch…
yes, the burden of the rich, as we saw the similarities,
become the unresolved problem,
- mission drift, art intuited cognosis
have you never read where it is written that we,
we who read
being the only letting being
to let it be known, that we are to judge angels,
- where does this go?
as best messaging noncorporeal beings, wielding spirit in truth,
not some clown troupe trope miss
representing feeble minds reattempting trials,

Not Clarence, or Caspar, or the couple in the Thin Man,
nor Harvey, the Pooka manifested as human in a rabbit hat.

In profile he became the ******* Logo, same rabbit head guy.
Bunny lore, wrapped in chinchilla, soft as kitten fur,

who would ever tell?

--- Business, summer makes me think of winter sales.

No curious use of curio arts, ancient
beta better possible ways, from when we knew nada
at all, zip, zilch, no se, no way, we were babes,

and if we are raised, we become like animals, we sweat.
But, if we are reared, we become as men, we perspire.

As sentient beings who read as readily as we write,
we accept the role of reader as ours by right, or rote
ritual quotidian duty, each day, we plan to finish re-en
lightening the mob, the masses, eight billion of us now,

as we approach the peak, powers of ten, times six,
why six,
cubes stack nice… least heat, cool
enough to seal a preset get,
go, be gone to elicit light,
research into mind mold.
I write for fun, the stuff in entertainment, mental activa, I may suppose.
I might go out, clumsy as a palace on wheels
Appreciative of the placing animated expressive
Nature of your breathless, that just makes me die with a smile
Happy with his belonging, peace is his song
Dancing with the longing, the longer you wait for you dance
Dance away, without my words to guide you through cloud alphabets
Spanish palhabra, luminous limerick
Chinchin, chinchilla, minutes in Piccadilly
Square for a hamster on the turning of the changing wheels
Changing squares, and townships travel in a couple of quarrelsome
Steps of a poet, little honest about the footprints mistook for shirking persevering people
sandra wyllie Jul 2019
you’ve got
all that is inside you
and don’t hold back a smidgen
when it’s the heart and soul in you
your bread and your religion
and you’re still overlooked
made to feel trifle

You know what you are –
you’re a dazzling eyeful
not just a modicum of something
no scintilla of vanilla
you’re the zuppa inglese
no bushy-tailed chinchilla
put yourself out there –
beat your chest
you’re a gorilla
Butch Decatoria Oct 2020
Peacocking with Carnivalesque gyrations in leather
A machismo macho man fearless in boa feathers
Nubian jazz queen’s big Afro up doo, her nails did too.
Alpine foxy ski the white slopes bundled in chinchilla minks.
Charisma as vibrant as its dance, birds of New Guinea...
Hubristic fandango of Saturday night club kids
Eschewing their walk of shame, stained taints of train wrecks...
Repost
deanena tierney Oct 2023
Tim
I will remember our time
I won't ever diminish it
I won't ever regret it
I have it all tucked away
The courage after loss
The acceptance of me
The pride you sometimes let go of
The way you felt the music
The way you liked to hug
The Holy Mackerels
The fake coy looks
The few sober conversations
The hundred wasted ones
The family that was genuine
The cat I could actually touch
The handicapped chinchilla
The swimming pool dance
The overcooked food
The way too much firewood
The unsettled sleeping
The two foot high pillow
The GPS mishap
The drunken admittance
The compassion when I cried
The sincere repeated apology
The weird mornings
The honesty that showed up
The understood grief
The pretended jealousy
The confusion of it all
The temporary forgetfulness
The "let me pass" kisses
The less lonely hours
The feeling not so broken
The "all in" for one day
The ******* ashtray
The tequila shots
The creamer you didn't toss
The muddled mess you were
The sharing all about her
The food you said you ate
The not being able to love again
The wanting to try anyway
The way we never quite enough
The first and last time
The vulnerabilty of that last email
The inevitable loss of trust
The just being real.
The human conditions are beautiful
Just like you my friend.
Always follow your heart
And you will be just fine.

Happy Birthday.
“You'll never be ***** OF THE DECADE with that type of sick
behavior,” Oprah told Bill Cosby as he was drugging her. “You are
right!” Bill agreed with clear tears in his teary eyes from the trillion
big fibs that he told his bald wife of 60 years. “Why don't you lease
a chinchilla farm? It's not as much fun as ravishing passed-out *****
but you can still have a good time feeding them and cleaning cages,
sleeping on the beach and scarfing macaroni with a crusty hatchet.”

GAY NASAL SPRAY TURNED ME INTO A HYPER-LESBIAN
WALMART CART-PUSHER! “I was normal till I was sprayed 96
times in the nose!” Marlene X. Watson cried to a 400-pound judge.
Similar claims have been made by other skanks who regret ******-
ing their unborn kids. “I'll never forgive Walmart!” Marlene added.
Here, take care of my gerbil while I'm away at a big gerbil-inserting
seminar in Cleveland with my best friend Richard Gere & his uncle
who prefers unshaven hamsters. No! I cannot! I want no part of this
gerbil-inserting biz! I'm a married man who adores chicks with ger-
bils as pets and maybe a chinchilla. Shut up or I'll **** you with this
gerbil that's wired up with 3 bombs that'll expand your ****** cavity
a lot more than Pittsburgh expanded their gay Squirrel Hill Tunnel!
Walter Alter Aug 2023
and lastly I'd like to thank my agent
Shifty Placard unkempt as they come
nutty as squirrel cheeks at the Ritz
a little like Santa Claus and Nero
Shifty made me walk the line
between the rolling green hills of home
and a great vacuuming nothingness
made me grow extra fingers and toes
to feebly hang on with
Shifty wasn't all bad but
you couldn't love him like a bag of fries
he wanted the whole chinchilla
yes an eater of souls but hey
souls far too often beg for it
based on observation mind you
we all dance screaming and chanting
clutching our genitalia in holy ardor
a spectacle of the ****** if you ask me
they can buy you with smoke and mirrors
and I'll have no part of it
well maybe just a little reflection
that's the entirety of my wisdom
but then there may be
a more appropriate momentary abstraction
so I shifted to a new agent
The Great Mundayne
and have been enjoying an easy retirement
at the Home of the Holy Retread
in a race against senility and publication
and always remember kids to
um I forget
it's the law of the jungle out there
the jungle part is real
the other is a functional if occasional overlay
a sea of hard infrastructure assets which
Mundayne’s assistant Vaselina Nudelman
had in spades undertaker spades
she triggered street lamp photocells
and her lips sparkled when she spoke
too much horsepower for the pavement
I'm going to do you
like I did Mr. President she said
in a voice like honey with ants
needless to say I fell
her spasms were remarkable
she had a bee hive between her legs
and the lights went out all across town
the key is how you got here
your soul is your ability to look inside
it doesn't need will to act
it needs the expectation
of an improved model

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
She snuck up on me in la notte {the night}. Her moves were mysterious I would say. She lived the lives of 3 women, 2 cows & one chinchilla. One might enjoy her company immensely if not for all the lip-smacking goodness of her Godliness, cleanliness & super-scrubbed ermine texture. I enjoyed watching her slink about in her thinly-tethered shift. She had the muscles & the acuity, or perceptive talents to truck without driving, to drive without exhausting & to carry without stumbling. I could love her wrinkled neck, her straight-forward rhythm &  jaggy fangs eventually.
During the May 1995 chinchilla crisis fur ban I carried jungle juice,
in my Nicosia, Cyprus turban, for the beautiful brunette Iris Berben

— The End —