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Paul Butters Jun 2017
Who needs terrorists?
They are redundant
When over 60 poor people
Can perish
In a raging inferno
Caused by their own council.

For years the resident action group
Were poo pooed by the authorities
With, “Don’t worry your pretty heads!”
When they warned about fire safety regulations
Being ignored
Just like them.

No sprinklers and only one fire escape
In a twenty four storey building.
Only last year the tower was refurbished
With cheap plastic cladding that’s
Banned in the USA.

Our prime minister has been accused
Of failing to show humanity
By only visiting the Emergency Services
To avoid the angry public.

All this has happened
Not in some God forsaken third world country
But in the fifth or sixth richest economy
In the world.

For sure, that all engulfing tower-fire
Has made the blood of the people
Boil.
Let’s hope this volcano does not erupt
Like the one that caused
The London Riots of 2011.
Let’s hope our administration
At all its levels
Learns something from this:
To Care for its People.

Paul Butters
My sympathies are with all those affected by this.
july hearne Jun 2017
west london fire stories
stories i can't finish
you are in this story

what's the problem called
when the sun is coming up
and you've been awake all night because
ugly sleep sleeps all day,
and the groom's ******* are
too large for his beard

someone said no to reality
someone put the greed in poverty
but what can i say, what can i say
forgot who i was long ago
don't like who i am today

my back was turned
when the rainproof cladding of grenfell tower fell
while the london fire burned

cheap, chinese, and rainproof
that's how
the rainproof cladding of grenfell tower fell
penny wise and pound foolish
Stanley Wilkin Nov 2015
I grieve for you in the cold quiet of winter
My absent child, my long lost son
Warming my hands over dying flames, frost covered smouldering clinker,
By the wood where icy streams run
Through the shrunken sedge, and barren fields
Stretching for miles, empty of meaning.
The landscape like a worn photograph yields
Your tremulous smile, then nothing.

Here, you ran with startled steps
Through the yielding sheaves, yelling with surprise,
Chasing indifferent spiders, and discomfited birds
With hatred in their pebble pool-dark eyes.
Querying awkwardly spoken words, small
Tenacious fingers that caress and clutch
Every passing object, loudly chuckling, wisely playing me for a fool
A silly father who loved too much.

On the anniversary of your leaving I required solitude
Partnered only by memory
Away from familiar crowds, the booming, barking fusillade
Of the present day commonplace urban itinerary,
Where only the crackle of snow
And the fleeting trajectory of birds
Distracts my slow
Marshalling of comforting thoughts.

The cottage where we lived haunts the shallow glade,
A shrouded ghost swaddled by the half-light,
Positioned squarely like an old man, its cladding beginning to fade,
White branches like dead-fingers that gleam in the night.
In the closet are your dust-sprinkled toys, a yellow plastic duck,
A cheap skateboard, ancient video games,
A guitar you never learnt to pluck
A chess board on which you pulverised my endgames.

In the preserved furnishings of your bedroom
Your school work gathered into stacks
Barely visible in the gloom,
Our life together in disorganised packs
Denoting year and level
Development and academic achievement,
If any, (but I mustn’t once again cavil)
Indicating, even in your earliest years, a specific bent.

Standing on the mantelpiece, propped up against the wall,
Are brightly coloured, polished pictures
Of you. Plump, blonde, agreeably small
Dancing, standing, jumping, grinning, absurdly wistful mixtures.
A bitter echo resonating from the shadows
A cold thought darkening into memory
The spectre of your voice disappearing in the meadows
Having left all of us! Having left me!
Vikram sikki Jul 2017
Don't talk to me
Ye vanity
Cladding truth in urbanity

Expressions left to emojis
For Conversations we type
Reassuring through selfies
Relationships through swipes

Get drenched in rain
Get scorched in Sun
Quiver once in a while in pain
Drain out after a run

Get in a fight in real
Burst off of sorrow
Then you ll know what matters
It's today not tomorrow

Let go
Let go
O please
Let go
The veneer of sophistication
The hope of impression
Smiling through frustration
And short term-fad salvation

And if not
Never blame it on generation
For We took the turns
and We paved the path
We are here for what we chose
And we only ll be wondering at last

we always had a choice
Always...
We are sold to the times. We are owned and fed.
topaz oreilly Nov 2012
The wind chilled the dead pigeons
the chimney had long been dormant,
if they had lain elsewhere
their beaks would carried the seeds of change,
yet the graded storeys were never condemned
as long as the Portland stone cladding
was not too evasive,
growls from under the porridge table 
by the occasioned Ginger
spared these absurd notions
Jack Quinn Jun 2020
Rubber soled trainers broke the brick
Like the boom of the people tether the streets
Tight strapped caps wander and roam
Strolling the daylight for a place of their own

Screeching and whirring filling the room
Monoxide smog frogs that cling to their moulds
We the people; hardened in soul
A splash in the distance tearing a hole

Enoch and Edna turn in their grave
Darkened cobble flattened; all glazed
Mirrors and cladding click into place
A village that weeps, constant refined

Express the formidable now done and alone
Never your own
EST marks the alleys; so nuanced, so cool
If you knew the truth; that's a tenner!
You fool
kris evans May 2014
see the sky .....
cladding my dreams...
see the night...
hovering my thoughts....
see the stars...
smoothing my mane....
see the breeze...
shuffling my curls....
see the clouds....
tickling my feet....
see myself.....
gliding through them all...
blame can be apportioned
on the landlord's back
a cladding of inferior quality
wrapped his building's stack

flames quickly engulfed
all the floor levels
tenants were trapped on
such unsafe bevels

what chance did they stand
in getting out of the tower
a cheap Chinese covering  
encasing their bower

deaths were assured
by faulty material
much loved ones lives
seemingly immaterial

construction standards
perished with the smoke
slack council regulations
a legislative choke
S E L Oct 2013
cladding of a miniature kite
flying low
nearly raking treetops


figuring out all the stupid crap apps
vying for attention
flashing waste of unnecessary things

peck.. peck.. at indulge crumbs left
berried stalks on a pavement
deep fried horror slow ingest

impoverished smiles answer sewer cracks
sift through detritus of sea sludge
trickery wishes weeded out by force

probe eyes drill into sunbaked back
from across wrenching chasm scream
tearing of brown paper heard from toothless vagrant

hide a peek into auburnt stuck starfish
stand on violent edge
treble want not nearly seen

rocking wicker chair on solid balcony
light breeze fondles sweated head
curls o'oblivion study of gripping truth


I place within your palm
a miniature__kite
of such extent
its face can be hid forever
within the depths of you
Zara rain May 2017
It's finally spring my love.
The false promise of renewal,
hope and dreams
that survived the stark of winter war.
And once again like a zillion times before,
my mind lingers on you - my bedraggled knight.
Still reminiscing the insincere
but oh so seductive cooing
of your words whispered in desperate passion.
But every time the timbre
of that poetic song dig into
the marrow of my withering bones,
the ruthless but absolutely honest voice of it all
- my taunting, yet ever loyal sidekick - distrust
kicks back and tell me
in the clearest chime of unwedding bells,
that it was never real.
No love for real,
how hard I wanted to believe.
Believe
my heart's quest always.
Pounded down by the utmost power of knowing.
Taking down shimmering gates of roses
and mashing them all into
a weeping horrified pile of compost.
Where no new flowers will ever grow.
Fodder for black snails and spiders
to feast upon, in eager anticipation
to reach deep down, to devour
the terrified, bleeding heart
that’s buried in its rubble.
And the iron armor
cladding my spiritual self
builds stronger every day.
Polished and unbuckled.
Continuously fortifying or imprisoning me.
I move in the world effortlessly,
not one soul seeing
the tons of heavy metal
that weighs down my skinless flesh.
Bedraggled knight,
who do not know
that he still hold my fortress - my heart.
And with just one wink of the white flag
would take it all down in a rumble of tears.
yet another ode to broken dreams...
servicemen ingested the wrath, leaching through unsuspecting bodies
in a time capsule it sat in idleness, waiting to affect their aged bodies

no safeguards were in place, the testing went on without accountability
the red dust of the outback irradiated, protective cladding not on bodies

years later cancers were reported, nuclear particles ratcheting up
damaging the organs and bones, in frail manner were their bodies

a mushroom cloud hung low, the aftermath of British testing
the servicemen but lab rats, no one had regard for these bodies

friendly fire came to Australia, back in the nineteen fifties
Maralinga a tragedy in the making, its dire fallout stayed in bodies
Maggie Sorbie Nov 2019
Clatter and bang bang
living in a building site
It has to be done!
IAyfarah Jun 2017
The Souls of Grenfell Tower

1 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls  of Grenfell Tower, for their souls did not depart in vain.

2 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls have been chosen from amongst other souls

3 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls have been returned in the best of months, Ramadan

4 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for God descended to listen to their final utters of prayer

5 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their blissful souls reiterated the peacefulness of 2 billion others

6 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for they proved, pried upon practicing pupils, prevent further terror and tragedy

7 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for in June, they indeed sealed the end of May

8 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls showed the tweeting real duck, Londoners Khan all break fast together

9 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for they led Britain's conversation and distanced Hatie and her fallen solutions

10 Grieve not, dear families of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for their souls invited pleasant lilies, with beautiful oras, and the most famous of hellos - Salaam

11 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for they ignited the indigestion of cladding, in lowly aristocrats and their tory toys

12 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for Martyrdom was their end to a new beginning

13 Grieve not, dear families, of the souls of Grenfell Tower, for God has granted them Gardens of Eden.
prior to passing thru ******, buck naked bare
this grandson of Aaron, the sole heir –
   foreshortened to Sol Aire
evinced (as shown via ultra sound),

   which at birth became crystal clear,
   an obsessive compulsive prone
   human being, endear
ringly cute as a baby monkey possessed fear
some countenance tipping the scales needled gear

greater or lesser than seven pounds
   (minus or plus a few ounces)
   with a mass of dreaklocked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack of many a lovely bone,
   whereat obstetricians
   could not help himself but jeer

thus upon exiting birth cana;
   found him twirling loose
   ***** follicular fibers accord
ding to medical records,
   a combination of his being bored

(with a really lee super strong arm penchant)
   to sport dreadlocks, tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which no app could com pare,
   boot nonetheless highly adored

resembling inimitable indestructible filaments,
   when taut could lift off the ground a board
dillow, which no reference manual could address
even topnotch experts queried, could not explain

   outrageous constituent rare
lee if never seen before, though still insured,
a novel boot nada so critical freak of nature ma lord
hirsute component part in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon the head,

entwining, looping, spilling somehow
   interweaving umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,

grew like Kudzu into
   an immense globular mass galore
('bout the size of Rhose Island) after one year ****
more, and wove in part from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating after birth placenta
   accrued intact and immediately put in cold store

room, a by very peculiar product
   tinged with strands of blond hair
evoking how lioness would  roar
coccooning, contriving,
   and conveying this tiny dude

   into a self concocted
   hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
   looked like a lady bug hide entombment
   able to survive thermonuclear war
   as a minor subsequent repercussion

the downy side understood, impeterable forest
filched countless growing years, without jest
ting, when figurative messed
hair em scare em bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed invisible hoodlums
   broke free their electric kool aid acid test

from maximum security solitary confinement in vest  
ment for naught (busting andirons weighing down
  with reinforced steel trapdoor cladding
   didst not bar compulsive
   banshee like imps of thee pervert,
   but merely slow down

   miniscule limbs emulated a hitch hiker thumb
   upon will could assume the Alaska Bull Worm sized
   Albatross shaped achorage)
unsinkable (short term)
   screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys
   et cetera with fiery zest.
Fay Slimm Apr 2016
Oh Light, you travel so fast,
invisibly cladding
this planet in change which
nothing can hinder,
altering colourless night-hue
you, in an eye's flick
gilt sea's face, reveal distance,
you, more than that
touch land in filigree-silver,
melting black fingers
of mist netting dune's grass
and more than that,
your whispers to unfolding
flora in still-dark
corners make numberless
petals succumb
to your calls, sensuous fur
feels your warming
as feathery sleep blinks in
readiness to dawn's
breezy ruffles for morning
stirs wings, fins
stretch in watery beds and
more than that,
humanity worldwide yawns
at your warning
of lullaby's finish and shakes
off drowse to see
how labour for hours ahead,
can be a life-giving
force with daylight's ready
aid, more than that
each sunset aims to put end
to your daily
performance but not before
that glittering exit,
the show of best-rays taking
central stage after
which Oh Light, you sink
slowly back into
your secret abyss and wait,
for more than
unthinkable would be life's
disastrous lack
if your worthy entrance it's
cue ever missed,
and for this, every earthling
human or otherwise
relaxes while offering sighs
of meant thanks.
to Light and to its Creator.
Tom McCone Jan 2016
sat in the back seat, watching the hills cladding SH2 go by, with a tightened silence all over my face, couldn't help reflect:

sometimes it digs deep down into me, thinking of all the conceptions planned out that i was considered to have aligned with, but can't bring myself to think the same. to what degree am i the image of failure in all my leader's and follower's books? all simply for abiding by ideologies that seem to occur naturally.

but, am i failing myself and, transitively, failing more critically henceforth, if i disavow my own convictions for sake of demonstrating love to those i care the most for? is it worse to disappoint my parents, who've thrown large parts of their lives to the wind for my sake; my friends, who've laid down their loyalty for knowing, mutually assured, that collectively our virtues are assured; to weaken strength or trust in other's eyes for the sake of my own moral solidification?

or to let my very self evaporate slowly away, a puddle left out under the bright light pouring from their hearts?
i understand that modulating one's self with respect to other's stances is a swift route to personal instability, but what about when the stances are those you understand & respect, but cannot follow?
Fay Slimm Dec 2016
Oh Light, you travel so fast,
invisibly cladding
this planet in change which
nothing can hinder,
altering colourless night-hue
you, in an eye's flick
gilt sea's face, reveal distance,
you, more than that
touch land in filigree-silver,
melting black fingers
of mist netting dune's grass
and more than that,
your whispers to unfolding
flora in still-dark
corners make numberless
petals succumb
to your calls, sensuous fur
feels your warming
as feathery sleep blinks in
readiness to dawn's
breezy ruffles for morning
stirs wings, fins
stretch in watery beds and
more than that,
humanity worldwide yawns
at your warning
of lullaby's finish and shakes
off drowse to see
how labour for hours ahead,
can be a life-giving
force with daylight's ready
aid, more than that
each sunset aims to put end
to your daily
performance but not before
that glittering exit,
the show of best-rays taking
central stage after
which Oh Light, you sink
slowly back into
your secret abyss and wait,
for more than
unthinkable would be life's
disastrous lack
if your worthy entrance it's
cue ever missed,
and for this, every earthling
human or otherwise
relaxes while offering sighs
of meant thanks.
to Light and to its Creator.
MARK RIORDAN Jun 2017
LONDON HAS HAD TERROR
BUT WITHOUT THE DESIRE
PEOPLE HAVE BEEN KILLED
IN A HORRIFIC BUILDING FIRE



WHERE WERE THE BUILDING CODES
THAT KEPT THESE PEOPLE SECURE
IT WAS A CLADDING SCANDAL
THAT CAUSED THE FIRE TO ENDURE



WHEN WILL THE OWNERS OF THESE BUILDINGS
LEARN TO PROTECT THE PEOPLE INSIDE
INSTEAD OF CUTTING CORNERS
AND ALWAYS TRYING TO HIDE



WHEN THERE IS INADEQUATE SAFETY
A DISASTER WILL EFFECT THE PEOPLE WITHIN
NOW HEARTS ARE BROKEN
MANY LIVES ARE LOST
THE OWNERS ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS SIN.
LONDON HAS HAD A DISASTER OF INCREDIBLE MAGNITUDE. A BUILDING FIRE THAT HAS TAKEN INNOCENT LIVES AND DESTROYED FAMILIES. THE BUILDING OWNERS MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY.
Big Virge Jun 2021
That’s RIGHT The Truth HURTS... !!!
When It’s Served To JERKS...
Through Words And Verse....

That DON’T Observe LYING...
And Taking WRONG TURNS... !!!!!

That Preserve FALSEHOODS....
That SHOULD BE......... Removed........ !!!!!!

The Truth HURTS In Ways......
Because It’s... STRAIGHT... !!!

UNLIKE The Ways...
Now DEFINED Today... !!!
As Being... OKAY.... !!!

Like... ****** Displays...
That INDULGE In *** PLAY...
And Of Course Today’s SWAY...

Towards Accepting... “ Gays “...
Whose Actions NOT So Long Ago.... !!!

Were Seen As UNCLEAN...
Being NASTY And Low... !?!

A Truth That YES HURTS... !!!
And DISTURBS Herds...
Whose Truth Makes Moves...
Like... Media News...

One Day It’s... THIS... !!!
And The Next It’s... THAT... ?!?

And Then They Make CLAIMS...
That Their Stories Are FACT... !!?!!

A Truth Now Found...
To Cause Losses of Pounds...
And Dollars TOO... !!!

When These LIARS Confuse... ???
Due To Views They USE...
To Have People CONSUME...
HOT AIR They’ve PREPARED...
That FILLS.... Balloons.... !!!!

And Cladding For Towers...
Where The TRUTH Became HOURS...
of... " FIRE and POWER "... !!!!!
That EXPOSED These COWARDS... !!!!!

For What They Did...

... DENY A Truth...
That KILLED Elders And Kids... !!!

A Truth That Now Sits...
In Those Who Now LIVE...

But Have NIGHTMARES...
That Do MORE Than SCARE... !!!!!!

When They TRUTHFULLY AIR....
On... TV Shows..... !!!!!

Where Hosts Quiz THOSE...
Who Dealt DESPAIR... !!!...

Because of How Low...
Their Dealings GO.... !!!!!!!

TRUTH To These Folks...
Seems To Be... UNKNOWN... !?!

I Wish That I Could Say....
That It.... " JUST AIN’T SO "... !!!

But That’s A TRUTH That GLOWS... !!!
Like Homes Now SHOWN...
To Have Been DESTROYED... !!!

Because of... “ Ploys “...

Where LIES Were DEPLOYED...
Like... Peace Envoys...
Whose Truth Makes NEWS...
When They’re Found To ABUSE...
People They Were SENT To Give HELP To... ?!?

DON’T Play The FOOL.... !!!!!

THIS IS A TRUTH...
That HURTS Like Views...
From... Racist Crews... !!!

Whose HURTFUL Ways...
... STILL EXIST TODAY... !!!

NO MATTER What The Liberals...
...... TRY TO Say..... !!!

From Brexit' To Trump...
The TRUTH Now STUNS...
Those Running Gums...
About UNITY And EQUALITY... !?!

Because Their Truth...
Is Based On DENIAL...
of Things Profiled...
And Historically Filed...

Those In... “ Politics “...
USE LIES And TRICKS...
When They Part Their Lips... !!!

Sexually... Or Otherwise...
They Deal In ABUSE...
And A Number of LIES.... !!!

And Then Get To Be...
On... " PRIMETIME TV "...

To Talk About WHY...
People Have DIED... ?!!!?

Well It Seems To Me...
That It’s Down To ***** DEEDS...
Making Money And GREED... !!!

NO MATTER What The Cost....
To Their OWN Communities... ?!?!?

Come On Now Peeps’...
It Can’t Just BE... ME.... !!!
Who Now CLEARLY SEES...

That The TRUTH Is Something...
That Humanity NEEDS... !!!!!

NO MATTER What Race...
… Colour Or Creed... !!!!!!!!!

It May Well HURT...
But Also SERVES... !!!
In CALMING Nerves...

And IGNORANCE...
THAT Is NOW SEEN....
Cos' of LIES That FEED...

Things That Now Make People BLEED...
And Have Folks Living In POVERTY... !!!!!!!!

While These LIARS Now PREACH...
About TRUTH And TRANSPARENCY... !!!!!

Kinda Like These Black Peeps’...
Who Act Like... “ Sheep “...
And SEEMINGLY Don’t Like TO SEE...

... DARKNESS Be...
Where The White Folks Be.... !!!!!!

You See Colonial Themes...
And... SLAVERY...
Are Truths That BURN...
When Black Worms TURN...

Because They WON’T UNLEARN...
What They Have LEARNED... !!!!!

A Truth On Which...
I’ll End This With...

Because IGNORANCE Reigns...
Like... LIES Today... !!!!!

Just Take A Quick Look...
At... Political Games... !!!!!!!!!

Well All I’ll Say.....
Is That Being FAKE...
Is... NOT THE WAY... !!!!!

And That LIES Do WORSE...
Than... Honest Verse.... !!!!

THINK About THAT...
When You READ These Words...

That Simply SHOW How … YES...

... “ THE TRUTH HURTS “...
LISTEN HERE :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/the-truth-hurts/s-Gdf1m
winter cocooned
the colorful buds of spring
in a white cladding
El
a seven-seven-seven freighter lands down at a runway
as I watched it unleash its landing gear
touching the ground after a long airtime.

I waited in forlorn as I sat at a nearby Starbucks
with my mocha and several granola bars
that I’ve been eating since I started
to distrust the image
I see in front of the mirror.

you caught my eye; with badges cladding
your tight suit, and the way you fiddle
that hat of yours while looking sharp.

the café was empty; as was my heart, as I sit along
the table that spreads across the center
you came inside, alone, dazzling
but your eyes are saying
that you've come a long way from here.

I was drowning myself with thoughts
as I wait for someone whom I didn't know
I would miss this much
when suddenly a tray landed
near the vicinity of my rented
personal space; it was you
smiling, along with your thick brows
and tired, sad eyes, asking me
if I would mind sitting with you.

I said no.

your voice; raspy yet pleasant
as if you've fought in countless rallies
but still manages to fight on for
another day
as if it echoes your masculinity
yet wanting some company.

you offered me your bread in which
I gladly refused, then you take a hearty bite
while asking, "what are you doing here alone?"

two a.m. it was, when we started talking.

I can't hide the fact that it was
charming, the way you talk
as if you were listening to someone
endearing but in reality
I looked like a *******, sitting at Starbucks
drinking coffee at two a.m.

I told you I was waiting for someone
and you told me that someone is that lucky
to have me waiting.
I let a soft laugh because it was funny
funny to a point that I didn't even knew
why I was here in the first place.

you told me you fly planes.
that flying was your dream; but you never
thought that it was that tiring; that flying
was meant to be off that repetitive and tiresome
place called land, and touching the skies and
gliding along the horizon was the reason
for dreams.

but you told me you were a bit, wrong.
you told me that however eager you are
with reaching heights, you'll always come back
for land; that landing makes you humble
that landing makes you believe that the sky
is not the limit; that yourself is the key
and travelling is not always the way
in finding one's self.

then you told me I was beautiful
no matter how I call myself a *******
sitting in Starbucks, with my mocha and
granola bars.

you told me that I have passion for love;
that you see sacrifice in me

as if you knew every inch, as if
I’m a ghost that you can see through.

"what are you looking for, in life?"
I asked, trying to comprehend you.

"someone who interests me, every day
someone who understands why I fly
and that not all the time I wanted to"

I gave you a heartfelt grin
you gave me a granola bar.

his phone rang. it was time for him to go.

"it was very nice meeting you. I hope I see you again"

I hope I’ll see me too, I guess.
from my first book entitled, "encounters".
(true anecdote circa late 1960's early 1970's) prithee
which cold wintry temperatures re:
wheely jogged unpleasant event in axle all let tea

aye rem member inxs of cold playing air
froze natural on gull din pond,
   where over head Canadian geese did blare
honking the latest goose sip
   loud and crystal clear,

when from behind a bush
   (color of smashed pumpkin)
   did peek a deer
alert to any rod nee danger field
   by parking upright
   either one or both ear

instinct flashed warning to doe eyed creature
   lest predator doth lurk and induce fear
while Harris Family and friends
   oblivious attired in wintry gear,

which padded material cladding
   adequately protected me from cold
caused clouded difficulty to see
   (thru fog coated glasses),

   and muffled keen hear
ring any forewarning
   as chief identifier icier
   this then gawky child nerd
precariously maintaining balance
   on his skates

  gliding, than extemoraneous
  ill prepareed head over blades swan dive
   shutterflying like  a bird soon tubby goosed
such attempts made this boy
   appear quite absurd
ah, if only this mind of mine shut oral trapdoor,
   and force haw debacle with preturnatural wink

   did two step quick think,
but woe misfortune awaited
  across the bumpy natural rink
blithely jettisoning myself,

   to and fro, hither and yon
   like a rolling stone
   (that gathered no hearty moss) going plink
unaware while in camouflage pose
   disguised as one sneaky, slippery icy fink
that snuck up in a blink

found me squarely face down
   shattering left front tooth
immediately discovered
   via tongue as private sleuth
found me in an extremely agitated state forsooth
as if on fire from red hot chili peppers
   wrought jagged dentin chewable booth

a scant mere
seconds to late, when with a crash, which near
concussion smacked noggin
   hard against blocky chunk hove ice
   informing gap toothed email

   (actually, that incident
   found me quite traumatized,
   especially without any solution to milk),
   i.e. unpreparedly tasting solid rock hard material -
   with ugly reflection that didst stare
from a looking glass re: mirror,
   which aye avoided at all possible costs where
to cast and fit mouth
   with a provisional crown entailed maybe a year.

necessitating cupped gloved hands
   to punctuate every muffled word
to be but barely heard
akin to talking with mouth full of custard
above the quiet riotous mirth
   analogous to twittering bird

winning sympathy from parents,
   who did level best to tend distraught son
who ushered playback of events
   with less disastrous rerun
praying for a high lee angel

   to grant reverse outcome brought none
gut wrenching grief
   immediately terminated former fun
damage irreversible
   and perfect smile of pearly white
   forever broke
   NOT the least itty bitty funny, comical,
   nor countenanced devastation done.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2020
at a hospitalier's request...
i heard...

   'ask them to drink a little...
or at least gradually...
alone... absolutely alone...
come night and at least
an hour before setting of
for the land of nod...
before their grand imitation
of death with sleep...
ask them to drink a little...
anything except beer...
wine or ms. amber...
             ask them...
  to drink alone...
  and tell them: would you
please be inclined
to listen to templar chants?
le chant des templiers -
organum marcel peres - harmonia mundi:
salve regina...
          da pacem domine...
                nunc dimittis...
ask them to drink a little...
to drink alone... and listen
to these chants of the templars...'

i have been here before: dear hospitalier...
i have... i have seen
diamonds be fathomed
in waterfalls -
i have been here: gnashing my teeth
with an agony from the aesthetic!
i was here: tortured by beauty,
once...

  'i've been here, prior! teuton!
i've seen what aesthetic blows
can be dealt on the hearts of man!
i've seen men weep from
the agony of beauty!'

ask them: implored the hospitalier
to listen to the chant of
the templars...
ask them to sit aside: alone...
ease their hearts with a little bit
of liquid-fire...
baptise them thus...
ask them to take this sacrament...
let these new men
be baptised by wedding themselves
to the tears they will about to
shed...

baptise them with all the ingenious
beauty of song!
tempt them into this agony
of beauty...
no Bach no Beethoven...
forget all the polyphonic composition
complexity of classical music:
to the bellowing guts
of angus dei...

        i don't want intelligent music:
i want music that replicates
the herded animal: for the chant of the choir!
excuse me worship for
the fox calls of the night:
in england one cannot find
wolves - only dogs barking...

at a hospitalier's request:
'weren't the templar the more vicious
adamants of faith -
a cross became a sword...
yet after a slaughter: they would repent
with song...
to feed a contradiction that
came with a completeness of
heart...'

te deum patern ingeniturn -
  i can't stall the teutons from singing!
the teutons must sing!
these black cross cladding
over a whitened reservoir of following
yet uncovered details...

ease their hearts: strain them against
such ferocity of beauty...
let me find a grain of universal
truth in all of this...
and share it among all the reigning
particulars...
detail some excursion
into mathematical schematics
of "explanation":

the universal fraction / percentage
the universal is... only...
0.00000001%...
the particular is 99.0000009...
to solve the socratic mystery
of consolidating universals
with particulars:

concerning myself with genes:
by the time i might have
joyed myself with grandchildren:
i would have been diluted to...
a quarter...

             please ask them to
reflect on a: my self...
rather than be so agitated and prompt
boundless with
a compounded of nervy-
reflexive myself...

      give them an hour
to concern themselves with conjunctions...
give them the scissors of
atheism: notably in english
the only dimension this explanation
works in...
a- (indefinite)
                   and -the- (definite) -
an -ism is an -ism is an -ism...
is perhaps a variation of shorthand
explanations: as any decency of
an -ology...

indefinitely but most assured: definitely
this lingering phantom
of a tongue that had to remain
in talk and was never allowed
to sing...

       the hospitalier implored once
more:
'the same can be achieved
with muhammad's adhan...
                            but what if muhammad
himself was... tone deaf?
it does little to the reality
of the french caricatures:
yet another beheading...
             some elsewhere like france
has become...
this masochistic statue of glass...
this ice forge that salt is thrown at!
please let them listen to the templar
chants... ask the men first...
let the women disguise themselves
into the experience...
but tell them...
there is only your heart
upon entry... and there's only
your heart upon leaving!'

and i have been accused of
sociopathy and psychopathy...
   lies have dwarf-esque legs to sprint on...
2007: my descent...
it has been oh so... coincidental...
i have a testimony of Abel...
the earth doesn't cry out for me:
i'm still laughing upon it...
it's so impossibly just to have
not disturbed a finger of evil
that always points with accusation
at its own tongue...

i'm a big boy now: i can allow
myself metaphors of evil
i can allow myself metaphors of good...
i want these templar chants
to be aesthetic torture chambers...
i want men to be baptised by
the tears they shed...
expecting results...
oh of course... if they don't cry
having drunk enough...
then...

           clearly: the latin men wouldn't
require their letters to have names...
an A would never become an alpha -
a connotation of association with
male...
king alpha prince beta - B -
the latin men didn't conjure names
for their letters... at best... syllable
constructs for their consonants...
or vowel-catching sighs and laughter
reliefs for the vowels...

Bee would never be most certainly
beta...
               Oh would not become
omicron...
                that the greeks gave names
to their letters:
why is it that they are the most
scientifically "biased" people of this world...
Es: or sigma - a sum of:
which is why they sing such
godawful songs!

the castrato assembly of
the nuanced teutons!
would i be lucky to be stolen from
this future in a choir...
and forced into... deeds...
that can be agglomerated
when celebrating the defeat
of the mongols at the hands
of the mamluks...
or who the turkish janissaries were...

immediately slaves...
immediately converts:
easily pawned zealots!

- what a kind expression:
i clutter... my smile... with teeth...
then again...
if i am supposedly smiling:
would i require the use of teeth...
if i'm therefore employing the use
of teeth:
i'm not exactly smiling:
i'm pouting with an off-putting
grimace...
and by showing my teeth...
i am "unconsciously"
attempting to sharpen them
with instigating both fear
or paranoia...

     i have wed myself to the tears...
i have left nothing to hsve
to make it conumate upon stressing
this aesthetic torture...

augure of either sigh or the forlorn...
with my tears i wed myself
to the lakes and the rivers...
beside spite:
from an authenticity basis:
i was made lacklustre i was made
hindered...
if i were merely trampled on:
tampered with:
that i feel more than i think
i might have been egregiously taken
advantage of...
it's oh so...
    synchronised...
as if an Abel: but this new-Abel
would not die from a wounding
of a stabbing sensation:
if would require covert
murderous mechanisms...
an ingenuity of chemical employment...

let the world rot to appease the bloodthirst
of the demiurge...
i will only serve to laugh...
as laugh i did:
so many years prior...
come! share my universal attention
to detail!
let the teuton sing!
let this borrowed Cassidy sing his
shoes and suede off!

how they would
untie the feet of bogus bodies
of chinese pump-out
machines...
toe-tied this naked night
from afar....
this naked stark horror...
cut them at every available limbs!
gauge their eyes out!
cut their tongues out!
leave them womb-esque
most pristine!
that's all that was ever required
of them!
they dare not prance around:
peacocking...
when the subtle man
is being circumcised...

and they can... toy with
a lottery of... flesh; edible...
how i impersonate...
this quest fetish for...
i'll celebrate eating
a chicken...
by succking out the marrow
in the bone...
i will... celebrate the crunch
of cartilage...
           i will feast on the tender-bits
of liver and heart...
i will swear allegiance
to a handful of poultry hearts to
best remind myself:
what lifting a volume of
chickens would have to feel like:
heaving them...

guess i just spoiled a "poem":
there i was also looking for... a rhyme...
to also look for geometric antics...
yes...
it has come to my attention
to be clumsy enough...
i too would have liked
to have spent the better part
of my yet to be: envisioned
life in buenos cyres...

if i were more than the name
prescribed unto me:
i were more darius than matteo...
if i were a xerxes and
athena was my bride...
i like questioning being
given a name:
with such hightened expectation...

      conrad of masovia...
it's like it was necessarily to be...
humming a belief in:
china ≠ tibet ≠ mongolia

kind augur: in china they give noun status
to their syllables...
since they don't own concept for
either vowel or consonant...
"concept": what a grand branding
need...
the beijing squints from lemon
sherbert are... shy for giving:

no... there's is no vowel:
there's the consonant "proper":
ka                                                            cha-se and che-st...
ke                                                chew
ku                                         chi
ki                                     cho
ko...           and there's

herr: fat-bang-****
when black rice powder made peoples
explode...
such generic life
and holding on...
the mediocre ambitions that
would never pierce the ambition claimants...
as having a heughtening
impetus of / for elevated strategy...
in beijing:
it's so necessary to have as many people
without heaving ambition...
as is necessary to have
a Lenchenstein and have so few...
arrogantly prized antagonists...
there have to be status quo converts
and bravado
architects of same...

i'm wondering: how will "they" ever...
multiply us to their assured
presence of number...
and weaken us intellectually
to fraction out a count of the celebrated
counter count of 1..

we must be so impossibly to conquer...
when herded: herded...
yet when not...
so biased against...
the already persisting antagonism
of a chinese "concept" of "individualism"
to borrow from...
well... basically... ****-all to do with!
Big Virge Jun 2021
So Just Like My Namesake...
In... “ The Great Escape “...

I’m The King of... The Cooler... !!!!!
Kinda Like... " Rick The Ruler "....

A TRUE School Type Mover...
TOP NOTCH Rhyme Producer... !!!

With Tunes That Are Cooler...
Than McQueen In His Scenes...

As Yup... " Virgil Hiltz "...
Showing Nazis I CHILL...
When They Try To Instil...

Ideals That Spread War...
Where Division’s The Cause...

Because I Stay COOLER...
Than Yes... " Ferris Bueller’ ".... !!!

When It Comes To These Tutors...
Whose Thoughts Should Be.....
....... NEUTERED....... !!!!!

That’s Right NULLIFIED.... !!!!!
Just Like Norton’s Guy....
And American Types....
Whose Actions DEFY....

REJECTION of FIGHTS...
Because They’re Still TIED....
To... SUPREMACIST Minds.... !!!!!!

Whose Vibe’s To *** - ide...
Based Upon Colour Lines... !?!

While I Deal In Vibes....
Where Tribes UNIFY... !!!!!
No Matter What Colour...
Or **** They STAND BY... !!!

Because I Am COOLER....
Than... Racist Wrongdoers... !!!!!

I Move With MORE Coolness...
Than Those Who Pull Shooters... !!!!

... MILITANT Armies....
Like Those In Zimbabwe...
Now OUSTING Mugabe... !!!!!

Political Parties.....
Who DO NOT Move Calmly... !!!

So I’m Cooler Than THEM... !!!!!
These Government Heads...
Who Cause Heads PROBLEMS... !!!
As Well As... DISTRESS... !!!!!

Because They Use POWER... !!!
To Use Cladding That Showers...
Like... EXPLOSIVE Gunpowder... !!!

So I’m COOLER Than Towers....
That In Just A Few Hours... !!!!!!!!

Became HOTTER Than Plotters...
Whose Movements Get HOTTER...
Than.... SUICIDE BOMBERS... !!!!!

I’m The COOLEST of Jotters...
About All This NONSENSE.... !!!

ABUSERS Whose Movements...
HOT UP... Certain Collars... !!!!!

Who Took Time To... HOLLA'...
About How They BOTHERED... ?!?

Producers And Movers....
Who Seem To NEED... “ Coolers “... !!!?!!!

To CONTROL Their LOOSENESS... !!!!!

However Some Coolness...
Is NEEDED Like Shrewdness...

When It Comes To The CLAIMS...
That Are Made Nowadays...  

... SO MANY Games... !!!
That People Now Play... !!!!!

The Type That Have RACKETS...
And Strings That Pull Jackets... !!!

On Puppets And Slaves...
Who Seem To Get Brave....

When It’s LATE In The day.... !!!!!
To REFUTERS I Say...
CALM DOWN Now Okay... !!!

I Suggest You Stay COOLER...
Than London’s Commuters...
When TERROR Becomes....
What HITS It’s Stations... !!!!!!

Or Cooler Than COUGARS...
Who Move Like SEDUCERS...
When Their ONLY Future...
Is *** With OLD Suitors  ...
Boozers And Schmoozers'... !!!

Whose ****’s LOST IT’s Rooster.... !?!?!
So NEEDS To Use BOOSTERS...
Like..... ****** Users.... !!!!!!

As I Said... This Poem...
Should PROVE I’m NO LOSER... !!!!!

I’m Just A Producer...
of Rhymes That Are Shrewder...

Than SCOOTER Type Looters... !!!!!
Who’s... SICKER Than TUMOURS... !!!!!

And Like... " Steve McQueen "...
When It Comes To Rhyme Schemes...

Don’t Let The Rest FOOL YA.... !!!!!

I’m THE KING of What’s...

........ “ COOLER “.......
Well, having been named Virgil, it only makes sense that, Steve McQueens Character in, " The Great Escape ", Virgil Hiltz, inspired me to write a poem ..... So, here it is !
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
the monopoly of the kitchen,
a slavic shrine, unlike the stale
civil room, the room congregational
with the remnant familial ties,
with T'eh F'ou... do zee chill chill
church goer's salute! V.
two old farts (reminiscent of:
kindly put), the colt will have no
monopoly over the kitchen,
even if he write a Milton epic...
because the gracious old,
in the age of botox pristine,
would like an open botox casket,
rather than playing the loon
zombified by painkillers an
sleeping pills... might I add,
an Odyssey I took to aged 21...
never the subjective in the pronoun,
but the anonymous...
didn't mama teach you that?
the drinker will not be kingpin
of the kitchen sitting by a shy light
drinking in 25ml measures...
not at Ypres the gong at 10pm
and the death toll read
rather than the returning march...
sneaking for a 100's in the dark,
muse comes along,
the cigarette 2/3 finished,
the scissors come out,
the cigarette is chopped off
like only Anne Bouleine might
only fathom, had she known
the flight of the blade,
if the executioner didn't take off his
mud-clot-shoe-cladding-echoes...
rummaging chess
before the sword's bow...
       Omicron in past tense:
as if he feared its term being passed,
non-reliquary.
    - and never the thesaurus,
but a word in the back of my mind...
the violin Welsh longbowmenschool...
fidgety half-burnt-out genius
of Amsterdam,
and the con artist 4 if not 5 years apart,
tour of the underbelly,
the last electrocution
of bio fibre before the exhausted
breath of the Spanish enigma
known in M'eh-he-he-co as
               veinte-dos gramos...
just a whiff of university...
    the rest becomes a middle ground
for cubicle / cela klasztorna / an IT kennel...
and the other bit includes
remains of skeletal thinning bits,
namely shadows...
     eagerly the sun rose,
by noon the shadow was defeated,
by afternoon the sun became dazzled
by its own slothful outpouring
of bleeding a subtle rainbow...
    while at set,
came night, and man's thought...
so came the 7th day of genesis...
while god rested,
    the unpredictability and gamble
of res replica...
                  as god rested, came the spawn
of god's rest / "non-existence": man's thought...
ADAM less shamed by nakedness...
as Bukowski said:
the intelligent are full of doubts,
while the stupid are full of ardour...
    but by mere thought...
                 a mobile body,
but an immobile self, later soul..
genesis binary,
not 1 0 1 0 1.... but Iota Omicron
day 6 day 7 day 6 day 7...
towed the bleeding bull
before the silent court of stubborn
heirchs of woollen clothed
wolves in dog-collar ecclesiastic
widzi-mi-sie-bzdet...
      third limb disposable "extra"...
tell of that arm cameo to an
amputee...
       shadow boxing...
    nerve endings scalping sheep
past sheering...
then turning snout cartilage
into base for lentil broth;
twice more, making béchamel
sauce... extra nutmeg, um yum.
leafless trees shiver
out in the gelid landscape
on this boreal day
no cladding save their branches
from winter's numbing coldness
Warren Dec 2019
Just before 1am On the 14th June 2017, In North Kensington West London - A fire broke out that ravaged a 24 story tower block filled with families who were settled in for the night.
During the hours that pursued , Panic was prevalent and mistakes were made.
72 innocent life’s were lost.

Their story, my words.
written with love, sorrow and respect.

A summers night like any other,
Settled in for the night,
Tv on,
We were having a late one,
Even mum,
Dad with his tea - just the way a family should be.
Same old noises from around the flats,
Distant shouts,
Yells from above,
No doubt a party - just spreading the love.

But this night wasn’t like any other,
The yells I thought were laughter grew louder,
Panicked in a confused chorus,
Footsteps up and down the corridor outside,
I felt an overwhelming urge to hide,
Doors were being banged,
The feeling was intense,
Screaming and shouting under a calm pretence,
FIRE was shouted,
A singular word,
Everything else momentarily blurred,

Dad said he’d sort it,
And went outside to investigate,
Mum didn’t hesitate,
Into the kitchen,
By the balcony door -
She sat me down on the floor.
Don’t worry she said with a look of pure dread,
Never before did I doubt what she said.
Don’t worry son,
There’s no need to fear.
Where’s dad I asked,
Why is he not here,
I want dad with us,
It’s ok she said
He’ll be sorting things out,
Just like he said.

It was at 12.50am when the fire is believed to of started. A resident found his fridge freezer on fire and raised the alert.
The fire brigade were called. The first fire crew entered at 1.07am, 17mins after the fire was discovered.
At 1.08 the fire had breached the window and within minutes ignited the external panels outside the flat.

I’m scared mum, why’s everyone screaming,
I wished I was dreaming,
Sat there scared on the floor
Mum just stared vacant watching the door,


At 1.15am the fire had spread to the flat above.
The fire brigade called for back up. The flames spread up the outside of the building to the roof at a terrifying rate, burning behind the waterproof panels which made it impossible to get the water from the hoses at it.
By 1.35am 20 pumps were active on site. At this point the ambulance service were called in.

“Where’s dad” I cried,
Has he died ?
“Don’t be ridiculous” mum said
But she knew full well the fire had spread,
Thick grey smoke blew outside the window,
Right then in that moment was the epitome of limbo,

We couldn’t leave,
We couldn’t stay,
The smoke was spreading like hastened decay,

Then I saw a man,
As if in slow motion,
It was so surreal,
I felt void of emotion,
He fell past the window,
We were on the 15th floor,
I had no sense of myself anymore.

Our flat was filling with smoke,
I started to choke,
Dad wasn’t back,
Mum quietly spoke -
I need you to listen, It’s important - she said,
Put this wet towel over your head,
Stay on the floor and try not to worry,
I’m going to find dad but I’ll be back in a hurry.

How many parents were torn between protecting their loved ones and going for help,
How can you choose what to do when there’s no time to think about it,
When everything around you is falling apart and filling with smoke.
Your family trapped in a flat that’s burning from the outside in.

I was too scared to move,
With my towel on the floor,
I managed to peep out so I could watch the door,
Any minute now mum and dad would be back,
I tried to stay awake,
But everything was going black.
I tried to listen ,
To hear for their voice,
I wanted to wait but I didn’t have a choice,
Everything went silent,
It was my time to go,
I did try to wait,
I pray that they know.

Grenfell Tower burned for 60hrs on that fateful night.
72 died, 223 escaped and thousands were affected.
Residents were given the wrong advice, some fatefully told to stay in their flats, others died trying to get to safety. Some jumped from sheer desperation.
Many children lost their life that night, the youngest was only 6months old.

The ultimate cause of the fire becoming so fierce and spreading so quickly was due to the illegal cladding that was used to cover the exterior, which ultimately carried the fire.
So many people failed in their responsibility,
So many people failed in their actions,
And 72 people were ultimately failed.

God rest their souls.
Antony Glaser Aug 2022
High in the sky.
London chimes.
Postcode lottery
Knife crime assures.
Still the Eagle soars,
over Streets with no names
Combustible cladding awaiting.

Hose pipe bans beckons.
A capricious late summer.
Rosemary twigs for sale.
See the gypsies staid,
against the Victoria tube exit.
Yenson May 2020
The nemesis scatterlings of Loonysville
want to live my life in madness perspectives
transferring the bastardization certificates
they so ingloriously and inherently attained
for in reckoning they claim mindlessness is universal

In vacuous throes and elemental blankness
with unison monumental and delusions blazing
sheep-herding and group-think leads the throngs
fabricating and cladding in whitewashed distortions
camouflaging realities for fodder in the bay of pigs

By edicts from Red Svengali's book of Lies
what we say is  what goes we makeup the drama
we are puppets controlled by puppets for puppets
rainmaking on all parades to drown our sorrows
our trademark blights, stains and rings of woes

We are the salts of the earth without sodium
more sodomites, ******* 'n sniveling poltroons we are
our history in neurosis we're Babylonians gutless psychos
we extort, we rob, we steal, lie and twist its our nature
we make it up as we go along for we're not made up in anyway
Maybe we should drink bleach to clean out our blackened minds, but we like our blackened minds and even blacker thoughts. wow! those black thoughts don't go away, they're so arousal in so many ways......wow! fantasize away!
Universe Poems Mar 2022
Larchen and cladding,
elements untreated,
silver grey,
it will turn nature's way
Season by season,
floating in the direction,
changing the effect
Blending into a landscape,
home requisite
Larch wood,
you definitely can build,
houses that are good

© 2022 Carol Natasha Diviney
Hey it's tough guy **** Biggers popping a bone or boning a popper
while merrily copper-cladding stuck stick-figures in an iron hopper
Vita, vita nuova my Mary Timony: helium half caste guitar shopper
Hey it's tough guy **** Biggers popping a bone or boning a popper
while merrily copper-cladding stuck stick-figures in an iron hopper
Vita, vita nuova my Mary Timony: helium half caste guitar shopper
Fore score minus xv orbitz ago
from being centenarian
strong contractions forced me
to pass thru ******,
buck naked bare lady,
I ranked as only grandson sharing
same surname as Aaron,
(mine paternal grandfather)
me the sole heir –
foreshortened to Sol Aire

evinced scrawniness then (as shown
via ultrasound), which at birth
became crystal clear,
unbeknownst to parents
obsessive hidden compulsive predilection
pronounced with social anxiety affliction
manifested later in life,
whose mental health of mine,
would find me at sea
schooled in counting fish,

where I did flounder with anguish,
nevertheless as newborn human being,
the propensity with panic attacks
a decade plus years in future
whereat yours truly
would wallow in despair
meanwhile bundled cuteness
ranked as excelsior,
though said infant
extremely agitated and fussy,

I possessed unusual fear
witnessed in scrunched
and furrowed brow
slightly resembled
quirky pissant outlier
tipping the scales
courtesy old fashioned
analog needled gear
greater or lesser
than seven pounds

(minus or plus a few ounces)
with a mass of
(the following feature fabricated)
dread fully locked hair,
otherwise a gangly sack
of many lovely bones,
whereat obstetricians
could not help themselves but jeer
thus upon exiting
birth canal found

yours truly anxiously twirling loose
***** follicular fibers according
to medical records prevaricated,
courtesy poetic character sketch,
whose trademark embellishment
endemic beginning to end of poem,
(your job dear reader
to distinguish fact from fiction)
reasonable rhyme now resumes
along current frayed thread

stitching baby me finding
strands of hair wrapped around fingers
surmising in retrospect, I felt bored
without access to world wide web
infant versus aging baby boomer
expressed at early stage individuality,
and nonestablishmentarian stance
sporting knotty harried styled
swiftly tailored quasi/pseudo dreadlocks,
gave Medusa a run for her money

(before they were in vogue)
tough as hemp cord
an anomaly, which
no app could compare,
boot nonetheless highly adored
and valued more than fine spun gold
resembling inimitable
indestructible filaments,
when taut could lift
off the ground a board

dill low, which no reference
manual could address
even topnotch experts
queried, could not explain
outrageous constituent rare
peculiarity the likes
never seen before,
though still insured,
a novel boot nada
so critical freak

of nature ma lord
hirsute component
partitioned in a triple tier moored
substantial pressure upon noggin,
entwining, looping, spilling somehow
interweaving insync with umbilical cord
into a mass of whirled
wide webbed wear suitable for
four seasons, which bamboozled,
grew like Kudzu

into an immense
globular mass galore
'bout the size of Rhode
Island) after one year ****
more, and wove in part
from stem cell threads, nor
ceased proliferating
after birth placenta
accrued intact and
immediately put in cold store

room, a by very peculiar product
tinged with strands
of strawberry blond hair
evoking how lioness would roar
cocooning, contriving, and conveying
this tiny dude into self concocted
hermetically sealed giant spore
miniature mummy, who without doubt
looked like a lady
bug hide entombment

able to survive thermonuclear war
as a minor subsequent repercussion
the downy side understood,
impenetrable forest
filched countless growing years,
without jesting, when
figurative messed hair em scare em
bedlam reigned as a supreme nest
sans shrieking obsessed
invisible hoodlums

broke free their electric kool
aid acid test
from maximum security solitary
confinement investment
for naught busting andirons
weighing down with reinforced
steel trap door cladding
didst not bar
compulsive banshee
like imps of thee pervert,

but merely slow down
minuscule limbs
emulated a hitchhiker thumb
upon will could assume
Alaska Bull Worm sized Albatross
shaped anchorage) unsinkable (short
term) screaming, rebelling, quaking,
atomic sized banshee beastie boys,
et cetera with fiery zest.

— The End —