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THE ALLAN FAMILY FUN DAY AT THE SPORTS


YA SEE, WE HAD FUN GOING  TO RAIDERS BACK WHEN THEIR HOME GAMES WAS

AT SEIFFERT OVAL IN QUEANBEYAN, WITH MY MATE LYLE, FRANK AND PAT

AND WE CUT OUR LUNCHES AND PACKED OUR BAGS, GOT OUR FLAGS READY

WITH JUMPERS JUST IN CASE WE GOT COLD, AND OFF TO THE FOOTY WE GO

AND WE YELLED OUT RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP

EVEN IF THEY **** OR NOT, WE STILL BARRACKED FOR THE RAIDERS

WE YELLED OUT

RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP

AND LYLE YELLED BLUE ****** AT THE REFEREE

AND THE LADY BEHIND SAID, CAN YA QUIETEN YA LANGUAGE, THERE IS A LITTLE GIRL HERE

LYLE GOT CRANKY, DUDE AND THEN WE CHEERED OUT

RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP  RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP

AS THE RAIDERS RUN ON ME AND LYLE, YELLED, GO, GO, GO, GO GO GO

AND AS THE RAIDERS SCORED, ME AND LYLE JUMPED UP AND CHEERED, YIPPEE I AY

WE CHEERED GET PFF HIM YA ****** OPPOSITION PLAYER

OR I WILL TAKE YOU TO THE ****** ESTABLISHORY COURT

ME AND PAT, SAID, WHAT THE **** IS AN ESTABLISERY COURT, ANYWAY

WE BROUGHT OUR RADIOS, SO WE CAN HEAR THE STUPID COOMENTATORS

HARTLEY AND PETERS, MAKE FUN OF EACH OTHER

WE WATCHED ALL 3 GRADES, BUDDY

TEASING ONE ANOTHER AS WE GO ABOUT OUR DUTIES OF CHEERING

RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP  RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP

AND WE HAD FUN TEASING ONE ANOTHER

I WAS THE IMAGINATION KING, AND ME AND LYLE ALSO WENT TO

THE CHEER FOR THE BELCONNEN MAGPIES WITH OUR BLACK AND WHITE STREAMERS

AND I CHEERED LOUDLY AND A LADY SAID, WOULD YOU PLEASE SHUT UP

I SAID NEH,  WHY SHOULD I LAD, IT’S A PRBLIC PLACE THIS FOOTY GROUND

AND AT THE CANBERRA COSTAIN CAT MATCH, I YELLED OUT COME ON *****’S

MEANING I WANT THE **** CCHHERGIRLS TO COME OUT

BUT THIS MAN THOUGHT I MEANT ***** CATS, AND SAID SHUT UP IDIOT

LYLE SAID, DON’T WORRY, IF YA WANT TO CHEER THE CHEERLEADERS ON WITH SOME ***

GO FOR IT, TIGER, AND YOU SHOULD CHEER FOR YOUR TEAM AS MUCH AS YA WANT

ME AND LYLE ALSO TOOK CARLA AND HER BROTHER CHRIS TO THE CANNONS

AND WE YELL OUT, CANNONS CLAP CLAP CLAP CANNONS CLAP CLAP CLAP CANNONS CLAP CLAP CLAP

AND EVERY BASKET, LYLE YELLED OUT, A BIG, HOOOORAHHHH

AND ANOTHER CHEER WENT LIKE THIS

HERE WE GO CANNONS, HERE WE GO, CLAP CLAP

HERE WE GO CANNONS HERE WE GO CLAP CLAP

HERE WE GO CANNONS HERE WE GO CLAP CLAP

AND WE RAN OUT AFTER THE CANNONS WON OR LOST ON TO THE COURT, TO HAVE A FEW SHOTS AT THE BASKET

I REMEMBER, I BECAME VERY POPULAR GOING TO SPORTS EVENTS, LIKE THIS

OUR RAID BASKETBALL WENT ONTO THE FIELD ONE DAY

AND THERE WAS A FINAL ON, AND ME, LYLE AND CARLA WAS IN THE SAME ROW

BECAUSE, THE SEATS, WERE SOLD, LYLE’S MUM SAID

BRIAN IS BEING FUNNY, HE IS PLAYING A JOKE ON YOU

BUT IF LYLE WANTS TO TEASE LIKE THAT WITH HIS FAMILY, I DON’T WANT HIS MATESHIP INTO ADULT HOOD

AND ME AND LYLE HAD A FALLING OUT, LYLE SHIPPED OFF TO SALE,

CANNONS ARE NO MORE

RAIDERS GRAND FINAL IS NO MORE

LYLE’S FRIENDSHIP IS NO MORE

OH YEAH IT SEEMS TO GO, YA DON’T KNOW WHAT YA HAD TILL IT’S GONE

YA SEE WITH PARADISE, WE ENDED THESE STUPID MATES

ALL BECAUSE OF A MISTAKE IN 1990, ON GRAND FINAL DAY

I ALWAYS REMEMBERED PLAYING BASKETBALL AND WODEN AND HAVING A DRINK IN THE CLUB AFTERWARDS

IT WAS RADICALLY AWESOME DUDES

I WAS UNDERAGED, BUT I STUCK WITH JUICE

I REMEMBER PAT ORGANISED THIS BIG BBQ IN HIS FLAT

WITH EVERYONE FROM BASKETBALL

AND WE ALL HAD SO MUCH FUN

THANK YOU PATRICK AND LYLE

FOR LETTING ME HAVE MY WONDERFUL LIFE

THANKS DUDES
The raiders show

V parramatta April 14 2019


Hi everyone and welcome to the raiders show where the mighty Canberra raiders are playing the pride of the parramatta eels and seeing the raiders have won 3 lost 1 it is going to be a thrilling match and we start the entertainment with Joel from waramanga

We are the bad and mean green machine fearsome men from the ACT
We will trample over the eels today
And we will hit ‘em fight ‘em
Even if biff wasn’t allowed
I want no red I want no blue
No purple pink or orange too
There is just one colour and
That will do
The fighting men from the green machine
Come on Canberra
We have to win tonight
If we don’t put up a fight
The side will fade away fade away
Like an old rusty coin
We are the bad and mean green machine fighting fit
We are looking mean
As our opponents will be seeing green
When we beat ‘em beat ‘em and that will be the end

Thank you Joel a very good version of the green machine song and now here is Barry from Curtin

Go go the raiders
The mighty green machine
We will be up there fighting
We will never be lean
Come on raiders you are the best
Watch out eels we will put you
To the test
Go go the raiders
Better than the worst
Go go the raiders
I think I see an eel trying to first
That won’t happen because the
Raiders are great
Go raiders go raiders
The team of today
Go go the raiders
Let’s finish the round with a bang
Carn the mighty raiders
Watch the raiders burst up a Bang
That will be the eels when they lose today
Go the mighty raiders mate
Better than the rest

Thank you Barry and yes it will be fantastic to see the raiders win today
And now here Bradley from Dunlop

In an era of upsets
Good and bad can occur
But the mighty Canberra raiders
Will fight right till they are through
With strong players who perform at their best
Those players will put eels to the test
It is going to be great cool and totally rad
The raiders this year have been far from bad
Yes those eels will be at their best
But the raiders are going to put them to the test
You see we are the mighty green machine fast and mean and fighting fit
We ain’t scared of the eels
Not one little bit
Thank you Bradley
And I am saying to you that
Raiders are great
Raiders are strong
They play their best even if the game is long
They will fight the eels
They will never squeal
Come on raiders go go go
Come on raiders
Win on my raiders show
And after this break the start of the match go the raiders the lead we’ll catch ok here is the match between the green machine and the eels

Welcome back to the raiders show and now we have the half time entertainment with Keith from Monash

Yes it started like this, raiders pushing for the try line trying so hard and parramatta trying their best to get tries and when they got their first try they were happy and converted the try to make it 6-0 and the eels were finding it hard to get a try even a forward pass stopped them from breaking through and the raiders
Scored a penalty goal to make it 8-0
At the break go the raiders kick some *** go the raiders show some class
Go the raiders in 2019

Thank you Keith and now jimmy from O’Malley

Come on raiders come on come on
Come on raiders come on
We are the green machine
We are fighting fit in the ACT
If you stop us from finding our feet
We will hit ya hit ya hit ya
The eels will be toast
Croker kicked 2 awesome goals
And the raiders look awesome too
Anyhow
We fight out our aggression
The eels will be a suffering
But who cares we have the half time lead
Come on raiders come on come on
Come on raiders come on
Yes they will win this match and if
We play well the premiership
Which mightn’t be so much
Out of the raiders reach
To win 4 th game tonight will be awesome go raiders go
Thank you jimmy and now
Back to the match go raiders win the 4 th match of the year

Welcome back to the raiders show and what a great win by the raiders
19 to nil, the first time the raiders to nil twice in 5 rounds since 1990, what a win it had turned out to be and now here Harry from Braddon

Go the raiders go the raiders
Raiders clap clap clap
Raiders clap clap clap
It was a match that was very good
Beating parramatta to nil
It was an interesting match my friend
Go the mighty raiders oh yeah
We had an 8-0 lead at half time And then in the second we just went with it
The eels made too many mistakes
What a game it was go the mighty mighty raiders oh yeah
We have the broncos next week
And if we play like this
There will be a chance
All we need to push ourselves right
And knock the broncos around
Yes that is what we need to do
Raiders clap clap clap
Raiders clap clap clap
The raiders have played well this year so far will they keep it up

Thank you harry, and let’s hope they keep it up and now here is John from ainslie

Raiders clap clap clap
Raiders clap clap clap
What an opening this has turned out
To be
The best start the raiders have had
And holding the eels to nil too yo
What a fantastic win
Let’s pile on the pressure raiders
And knock the broncos back home
We are the green machine
Let’s hope we can show the youth of today why they called us the green machine
I remember back then it was great it was great
Ooh I need to get home at half past 8
But I can sing about the raiders all night
Let’s go to parramatta leagues club
And get in a fight
Raiders clap clap clap
Raiders clap clap clap
Raiders are the team to watch in 2019

Thank you John and now our last entertaining number of the night is Imogen from hawker

Come on raiders
Kick some ***
Come on raiders
Tonight you showed some class
The lord was looking down on you
One try and an almighty 2 and
3 and then a great field goal
Taking the heart out of your soul
I have been a raiders fan
For such a long time
So let’s cheer and cheer
Them over the line
Raiders clap clap clap
Raiders clap clap clap
Kicking *** tonight

Thank you Imogen and now we must go, see you next week against the broncos let’s hope raiders win 5 well we have to just see and now time for the final curtain see you next time on the raiders show

And now we draw the final curtain
And the raiders won their 4th
Out of 5 games it was like fucken war
And next week we face the broncos
Let’s hope we win, I hope so
We need to celebrate Easter
With a win go the Canberra raiders
Yeseree
See you next week everybody
Hey Barty it is good you won the French open wasn’t it

You see she was just a girl from Ipswich town in the state of Queensland and when she picked up a racket from an early age
I always thought she had it in her blood yeah
You see despite letting her opposition in she still came out on top and the pressure she gave her opposition a headache she was very very good
Barty clap clap clap
Barty clap clap clap
C’mon Barty let’s go party
Oh yeah come on
C’mon Barty let’s go party
Ooooooh yeah c’mon
Barty clap clap clap
Barty clap clap clap
She left tennis to play big bash cricket
For the Brisbane heat yeah
But soon after she got back into the game she loves which is the game of tennis
You see she will deliver an ace
And shock the opposition so bad yeah
Then she will play hit hit games
Right till the end till the point is hers
Barty clap clap clap
Barty clap clap clap
C’mon Barty let’s go party
Oh yeah come on
C’mon Barty let’s go party
Ooooooh yeah c’mon
Barty clap clap clap
Barty clap clap clap
As we cheer for Barty
Our voices are losing
And all that is fine
Because for the simple reason
She isn’t losing
She has the right mind for winning
Everyone who likes tennis
Will be celebrating her win with alcohol
Whether it is beer or wine or ***** or scotch or something a hell of a lot stronger
Barty clap clap clap
Barty clap clap clap
Congratulations Ashley Barty
For winning the 2019 French open tennis
Sunday morning brumbies


Hello everyone and welcome to Sunday morning brumbies where we are watching the match between the brumbies and the jaguars and here is terry with his jingle

Go the brumbies
You are the best
You will really put the jaguars to the test
You will fight fight fight
Like you will never stop
Go the brumbies
Go go go
You see we are starting to win a few
In the last 2 weeks
We need to win today
To make it very neat
We must win brumbies
We really need it yeah
Let us enjoy your victory
Over a nice cold beer

Thank you terry and now here is Prue with her jingle

Brumbies brumbies brumbies
Oh yeah that is cool
Go the mighty brumbies
Break no rule
The jags won’t know what hit them
At the final siren
The brumbies will play so well, mate
The best they can be
Oh yeah the brumbies
Fight for victory
Fight for victory
If we beat the jaguars
Fight for victory
Fight for victory
We will be the best version of a footy team we could ever be
Go brumbies fight for victory

Thank you Prue and now Sam with his chant

Brumbies clap clap clap
Brumbies clap clap clap
You see as the season is progressing
The brumbies leave their opposition. Second guessing
About whether or not they are good enough to win and win well
Brumbies clap clap clap
Brumbies clap clap clap
We will get close to holding the
Super rugby cup right over their heads
But that is just a pipe dream
First we must beat the jags today
And give the fellas back home
A happy Sunday morning to you

Thank you Sam and now for the first half between the brumbies and jaguars

Welcome back to half time of Sunday morning brumbies and the jaguars hold a very close 2 point lead 17-15
It was a very good match to date and here is Peter cheering along

Brumbies clap clap clap
Brumbies clap clap clap
You see the Saturday night party goers are sleeping in today
Because they partied well last night
Oh yeah we pray
The brumbies are down by just 2
Yes they are playing on our Sunday
Morning which is quite cool
Oops I see someone has awoken
He was a party goer who supports
The brumbies
He was sitting on the couch
But he kept falling asleep
His brain and body fall into a heap
Go brumbies we must win
Show the jags who is boss
Yes we do
Go brumbies we are the best

Thank you Peter and now here is ken

At the end we draw the final curtain
What will be the outcome here
Will the jags hold the lead right
Or are the brumbies good enough
17 to 15 is the score I hope we win
We must fight and fight forever
And we must never never cast the first stone of sin
Go the mighty brumbies
Sunday morning brumbies
Beat the jags beat them well
Do tell us how much you wanna win
****** oath we do

Thanks ken and now the second half between the brumbies and the jaguars

Welcome back to Sunday morning brumbies and I might let Lionel tell you who won

What is wrong with our brumbies team
We lost it 20 to 15
We made too many mistakes mate
That is not good at all
If history has told us much at all
We must reduce our drop *****
But we couldn’t no we didn’t
The brumbies really did fall
What is wrong with brumbies today
They played so ****** ****

Thank you Lionel and here is Daniel with his poem

Fight for victory
The brumbies didn’t do that
We dropped the ball too much mate
Which is a total disgrace
Brumbies are 12 th on the ladder
And they won’t win on my watch
How about we sit down
And talk about what went wrong
You see the brumbies were woeful today they need to pick up their game
Go the jags they won the match
What a win it was

Thank you Daniel and now we have to say goodbye so congratulations to the jaguars over the brumbies here is the final curtain song

And now we draw the final curtain
The brumbies lost but well done to jags
The brumbies made too many mistakes
But take no credit away from jagulars
It was only 5 points though
Our performance saw it more
We must get back to our winning run soon
Or we will look like a pack of *****
See you next time the brumbies play

Jagulars 20
Brumbies.15
THE ALLAN FAMILY STORY


YOU SEE BRIAN ALLAN WHO WAS BEING TRAPPED BY THIS TRAPPER DUDE

DECIDED HE WILL TRY AND BE A YOUNG DUDE AND GO TO THE NIGHTCLUB

AND SINK A FEW JIM BEAMs DOWN HIM, MIND YOU, EVERYONE WAS CELEBRATING

THEIR SUCCESSES AND FAILURES AWAY LIKE NOTHING FLAMING ELSE AND

BRIAN WAS SO MUCH INTO ASKING HIS MATE PAT TO GO TO THE NIGHTCLUB

WITH HIM, BUT HE WAS SO MUCH INTO GOING TO THE AUSSIE DAY BBQ, WITH HIS

FAMILY, AND WHETHER THAT WAS A LIE OR NOT, BRIAN ALLAN DIDN’T CARE, AFTER

NOT UNDERSTANDING 5 TIMES, HE FINALLY RESPECTIED PAT, CAUSE, HIM AND PAT HAD

A LOT OF FUN TOGETHER, YOU SEE WE BLASTED HEAVY METAL, LIKE TWO WILD MENS KIDS DO

AND I REMEMBER AS WE WALKED DOWN THE ROAD WITH OUR STEREOS, SINGING

ELO’S DON’T BRING ME DOWN OR TWISTED SISTER’S WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT

AND ME AND PAT WERE BLASTING THIS MUSIC TO WAKE UP THE OLD TIMERS

THEN BRIAN ALLAN WAS WALKING HOME, AND WAS A BIT WORRIED ABOUT BEING MUGGED

LIKE ALL YOUNG DUDES DO, ASKED HIS MATE PAT TO WALK WITH HIM, YA SEE IT’S NORMAL

FOR PEOPLE TO BE SCARED OF THIS, AND ESPECIALLY WHEN MY LAST 2 LIVES WERE TAKEN FROM

THE EARTH AT AGE 8, THAT IS WHY I LIED LIKE THAT, YOU CAN’T CHANGE THE PAST, SO WE PLAYED

OUR MUSIC LOUDLY, SAYING WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT, WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT

WE’RE NOT GOING TO TAKE IT, ANYMORE, YOU SEE WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO CHOOSE IT

YOU SEE WE HAVE POWER, AND THIS ARMY MAN WILL USE IT, TO SAY WHAT HE WANTS, IS THAT I DON’T BELONG

AND WE’LL HEAD OFF TO BARACK FOR THE CANBERRA RAIDERS, AND THE CANNONS, AND CHEER FOREVER

SAYING, RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP RAIDERS CLAP CLAP CLAP

AND THE SAME HANDCLAPS FOR THE CANNONS,

CANNONS CLAP CLAP CLAP CANNONS CLAP CLAP CLAP CANNONS CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP

AND BRIAN WAS BLASTING BRIAN’S STEREO REALLY LOUDLY, ON THE MUSI OF MOTORHEAD AND TWISTED SISTER

AND THEN BLASTED THE MUSIC OF JIMMY BARNES AND NOISEWORKS, AS WELL AS THE ROLLING STONES

EVEN ROD STEWART, GOT A MENTION TOO, JUMPING JACK FLASH IS A GAS GAS GAS

YA SEE BRIAN ALLAN HAD FUN WITH PAT, BEING SHOWN ALL OF PAT’S HEAVY METAL TASTES

YOU SEE HEAVY METAL IS REALLY REALLY COOL DUDES

AND AT THAT TIME, THE ONE THING I LIKED ABOUT HAVING PAT AS A MATE, IS HE NEVER GOT REALLY CRANKY AT MY FACE

I READ INTO A TIME HE WAS SICK OF ME, BUT HE WAS NICE ENOUGH TO KEEP HIS TEMPER DOWN, I ADMIRE THAT

I AM NOT LIKE MILHOUSE, I AM NOT WANTING TO AT LEAST LOOK GAY

NOT THAT THERE IS ANYTHING WRONG WITH BEING GAY, IT’S JUST NOT ME TO BE GAY

ME AND PAT WERE TWO HEAVY METAL JUNKIES, AND NOW I AM A YOUTUBE ******

YA KNOW, I SHOW THE WORLD HOW MUCH I WANNA PARTY, I AM NOT LIKE MILLHOUSE FROM THE SIMPSONS

EVEN IF YA WANNA BE LIKE NELSON FROM THE SIMPSONS

I HEAR DEAD PEOPLE, I CAN SEE THE DEAD, I AM A BUDDHIST WHO BELIEVES IN REINCARNATION

I SEE DAD IN THE BODY OF ELIZABETH CAMPBELL,

YA SEE ME AND PAT LAUGHED AT ALL THE CRAZY PEOPLE AT OUR SCHOOL, IT WAS ****** FUN, DUDES

ME AND PAT, PARTIED, ALL THE NIGHT, GOING TO NEW YEARS PARTIES AND TO *** BLACK AMUSEMENT ARCADES

AND MANY MANY MORE, WE WERE COOL KIDS THE COOLEST KIDS AROUND THE COOLEST KIDS THAT YOU HAVE EVER SEEN

WE DRINK JIM BEAMS AND A FEW NICE COLD BEERS, AND CHUCKING METHANE ALL OVER THE DEAD

THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS DEATH, EVERYONE REINCARNATES WHETHER THEY LIKE IT OR NOT

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A COKE WITH PATRICK, I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A COKE WITH PAT

WE DRINK IN MODERATION, AND WE GOT HOME AND TRIPPED OVER OUR CAT

WE DRINK IN THE TOWN AND COUNTRY, TO GET THE ATMOSPHERE SO RIGHT

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A COKE WITH PATRICK, AND PARTY INTO THE NIGHT

YEAH, BRIAN AND PAT, 2 HEAVY METAL WANNABES, FROM THE 1980’S, D U D E S
Brumbies night live

ACT v lions


Hi dudes and welcome to gio stadium
Where the mighty brumbies will be trying to win after some terrible performances they have had and mate it is going to be a great match
No matter who wins and the brumbies who are number 4 in the Australiasian conference and we have to hope that they have the power to best the lions this evening on brumbies night live
With the last win from the brumbies being on March 15, and they are bound to win tonight and mate it should be cool, our first entertainer is George from red hill
Take it away George

Coming out tonight
With a lot of power
The mighty mighty brumbies
The team of the hour
They will beat the odds
Never giving up
Come on brumbies
You must win yes please be the best
Brumbies team brumbies team
They must fight hard tonight
Knock the lions completely out
And pile on the tries
Brumbies team brumbies team
Will we win tonight
Come on brumbies players
Please put on a fight right

Thank you George and tonight brumbies night live will be great
If brumbies win and not lose and now here is Peter from cook



Go brumbies we will fight them
Go brumbies we will never lose
Never, brumbies will win tonight
Go brumbies this is footy
The big game they play in heaven yeah
Brumbies we must win tonight
Go brumbies beat the lions
On our home we need to win
Yeah mate we must win oh yeah
With our players playing average
In other games
Our last win was March 15
Come on brumbies we must win
Come on brumbies we will win
If we put our mind to it
Get our mindset right yeah
Come on brumbies
We must beat the lions
Yeah we will win if we play well enough yeah we will win hope-ful-ly
Yes we are the team of the week
If we win tonight
Go brumbies we must win yeah
Go brumbies we will beat South Africa
Yeah dude we will be triumphant yeah
Go brumbies

Thank you Peter and lets hope brumbies win tonight and if our mindset as you put it is right we will win and win well

And now here is John from Casey



Come on the brumbies
We need to be triumphant
We need to show South Africa
Who is boss
Come on the brumbies
Hopefully we won’t lose this
Cause if we do our adrenaline
Will be pushed right down oh yeah
Come on the brumbies
The lions will be waiting
But we must win
Never ever give in
Because it must be our turn
Dance goes the cheer girls
And cheering goes brumby jack
As the brumbies are superb
Yes we will win oh yeah
And the team to win tonight
Will be the mighty brumbies

Thank you John and I hope the brumbies are listening because mate
They are due for a win and if they are good enough they will win battle and conquer and now here is rick from kaleen with a brumby rap



Yo hey brumby team
The best team at the GIO yeah
We will fight we will say
That we will beat the lions hands down
Come on hey brumbies team
Everyone will cheer you as you take the field
With the crowd going brumbies Clap clap clap brumbies clap clap clap
Brumbies clap clap clap right from start to finish
You see brumbies we beat the tahs
At their own game yeah we are cool
We haven’t won since then
But the lions tonight will be our feast
We will trample all over them
And say brumbies clap clap clap
Brumbies clap clap clap
Right till the very end
Go brumbies yo from start to finish
Duuuuuuuuddddddeeeeee!!!!!

Thank you rick and that was a cool rap beat for the mighty brumby team
And I hope they win against the lions tonight and now here is harriett from
Deakin


Brumbies team show the crowd a good time
Brumbies team show us how you win
Pile on the the tries
Make sure you never look like losing
Never lose go the brumbies team
Brumbies team fight till the final
Siren mate show us your style
Come on brumbies we must win this evening come on mate we must win oh yeah
You see the brumbies and lions meet this evening who will win
Who will ****** win
Everyone cheers for the brumbies this evening at 9-30 we will know the result
Brumbies team we will win this evening
Brumbies team we will win this game
We must fight we will conquer to be the best overall you see we are the best

Thank you harriett and that was a great song about the brumbies hopefully winning well let’s hope the beat the lions and very soon we will be watching the kickoff between the brumbies and the lions
Go brumbies

And welcome back and we are about to start this brumbies night live match
Against the lions from South Africa
Go brumbies go brumbies win this match
Come on brumbies we need to win this yeah we do and we will
Well, I hope anyway go brumbies

Welcome to half time and the mighty brumbies are leading at the half time break by 19 points to 8 and this is a crackerjack game of rugby mate and now for our half time entertainment and first of all is Gordon from Macgregor

Yes mate we were down and
I felt bad when the lions started well
And scored the first try
But the conversion was missed
And the brumbies got in
And with their successful conversion
We lead 7-5 but the lions were given
A penalty to the lions mate made the lions retake the lead but
We stuck at our guns at 8-7 down
And we pushed ourselves to the limit
Then we scored a great try
And again we converted it 14-8 was the score the lions tried to put pressure on us but we stuck at our guns and scored a unconverted try
It was 19 points to 8 at half time
And what do you reckon brumbies fans are we going to give up I say
No fear
Thank you for the summary Gordon
And now here is olly from Fraser
Go the brumbies win win win
Go the brumbies win every time
When we play so late at night
We have to see whether we can put up a fight
Go the brumbies win oh win
Go the brumbies make sure
You don’t give up this lead
Thank you olly and now it is time to
Start the second half
Go brumbies
Kick some ***
Go brumbies
Show some class
Come on brumbies win against the lions

Welcome back and it is full time at gio stadium and the brumbies beat the lions by 31 points to 20 after a very good second half of 12 - all the deadlock couldn’t be broken and here is Patrick from wanniassa

Here comes the brumbies
Here comes the brumbies
The ACT brumbies
Beating the lions 31 points to 20
What a picnic
Here comes the brumbies
Here comes the brumbies
The ACT brumbies
It was a very good win indeed mate
Those mighty brumbies won and the crowd is happy
Like a real smart happy Chappy
Here comes the brumbies
Here comes the brumbies
The ACT brumbies
We provided the best entertainment
You have a ever seen
Yes we had a picnic
Go the brumbies
Go the brumbies
We are the champions
Of the territory of the ACT
Especially tonight yeah
Go the mighty brumbies
Go the mighty brumbies
We will provide some of the best
Performances of the super rugby
Oh yeah what a picnic
Go brumbies you are the best

Thank you Patrick and now we cross to the brumbies cheer squad
Brad and Thomas and Daniel to cheer like they have never cheered before

Hi everyone at the brumbies game
I hope you enjoyed us win 31-20 mate
We put the pressure on the lions
Keeping above them anyway we want
They scored the first try converted it to trail by 4 but we piled on tries and
Won by 11 and the second half was 12 all dude, what a match this turned out to be and the lions tried and tried and tried but we were better tonight oh yeah, thank god I nearly died
As the crowd yelled so loud
The brumbies supporters stood up
Nice and proud and we had a good mindset tonight better than the lions
But the lions still played well
But we were better really really cool better mate yeah mate yeah
Go the brumbies on brumbies night live kick ***, go brumbies

Thank you brad and Thomas and Daniel and yes it was a great win by the brumbies and it was a 12-all second half and thank Christ brumbies lead the first half and now here is Pete from Melba

Go the brumbies go the brumbies
We won yeseree
Come on brumbies
Come on brumbies
This night was ours oh yeah
It was an even second half
But the brumbies still was leading
Yes and we cut the lions in two
And their hearts were a bleeding
But lions played well
But not well enough
Go the brumbies go the brumbies
We’re the best in the super rugby
Well on our good day, mate
Go the mighty brumbies
We are the champs of gio
But hopefully we can win more
To show today was no fluke

Thank you Pete and now it is time to go, so here is our final curtain song

As we draw the final curtain
And it is the brumbies on top oh yeah
Time to head out to go to our houses
While the wild ones have their beer
It was a very good match
The lions were displaying pressure yeah but the 12-all second half meant
The brumbies are the best
Oh yeah bow bow
Yes, the brumbies are the best
See you next time we have brumbies night live
Jacqueline Anne Feb 2015
Autistically
speaking
I applaud
your intelligence!

flap flap
clap clap

when you
don't think
before
you think

flap flap
clap clap

or open your
*******
******* mouth!

and disparage
and belittle
those with

a learning
disability.

But then maybe
It's you who is
disabled
as you don't
seem able to
distinguish
between what
is right and wrong
what is cruel and kind

flap flap
clap clap

in your ignorance
you are blind
and your
intellectual mind
is a snob
of the worse kind

Looking down
from your high brow
because you
are so clever

I forget
Let's all applaud
and you can remark
(Out of context of course)
that they're all ******* retards

flap flap
clap clap

Well aren't you hard!
You bully when
you say

the dimwits
and the morons,
unloveable,
undateable,
unwanted,
a drain of society
they should all be
put down.

Not somebody
you would choose
to be friends with
or if you did
it would be so you
take advantage of
an idiots good nature
and pure heart!

flap flap
clap clap

Or so you
could look good
in comparison
to them
and maybe it
would knock your
own IQ up
a number or two!

Your average ******
could teach you a
thing about numbers
if you asked them

And you wouldn't want
your own kids
playing
with them
incase they catch it....

Catch what?....
the ability to be
awesome
to think outside
the box
to see feel and
understand
and experience
the world and
people in a
completely
unheard of way.
To smell colours
and taste words,
and your inability
to deviate from
anything other
than your narrow
little mind
really is absurd!

So let's all clap
and flap flap
flap flap flap
and maybe
shriek a bit too!

They are the true
freethinkers
the true misfits
the pure and
the truly blessed

They are
the ones
the people
who are
"different"
"Individual"
as you
would like
to be

flap flap
clap clap
You ignorant ****!

Autistically speaking

Who's the ****** now?



©Jacqui Slade
if you're stressed out and you know it clap your hands
clap clap
if you need constant reassurance clap your hands
clap clap
if your life is just a wreck and you're really tired of it
if you're depressed and anxious clap your hands
*clap clap
Jasmine Reid Mar 2018
If you’re depressed and wanna **** yourself clap your hands
clap clap
If you’re depressed and wanna **** yourself clap you hands
clap clap
If you’re depressed and you know it and you really wanna show it,
If you’re depressed and wanna **** yourself clap your hands
*clap clap
Just saying.
brian has a knife to his neck



today is a horrible day for brian, well, not that horrible, well he went to

the baseball, with cath and michelle from his work, and they all went for

the local team which was the canberra cavalry, and every time the cavalry

scored a home run, brian, cath and michelle would cheer very loudly,

cavalry clap clap clap, cavalry clap clap clap, cavalry clap clap clap

and the cavalry didn’t disappoint their supporters in this match, and

then the hit a beautiful home run and cath caught it, what a absolute whopper

and she said, that she will give it to her 12 year old son, and then daniel sat near

brian and said you are too woosey to be a man like this, how about we leave now

so i can hold a knife to your neck, i don’t want to harm you, i just want to have

a piece of you with each of us, brian said, no, i am watching the baseball, can’t

you understand this, and daniel said, no, i can’t understand why you can’t come

with me, you are too woosey to be a family person anyway, buddy, and brian just sat there

and then young micheal sat next to brian, and he had a little pocket knife, with him

and mate, he was very inexperienced with knives, like he often put a knife at people’s

necks, as if it was a special game or something, and after the game was over, brian

said goodbye to cath and michelle and ran off towards the bus, and daniel followed him

with his pocket knife, if brian stopped, the knife would go straight through his neck, and

as usual, brian was scared that daniel was going to **** him, and ran home saying

leave me alone leave me alone, i am a cool kid, i went out with people from my work

and i don’t deserve what you are doing to me, and brian got home and locked his door

and daniel yelled through his door, saying open up little woosey, you aren’t like the adults,

open up little woosey, you aren’t like adults, and brian went to bed, and the next morning

brian got up and went to work and micheal was in the front, playing with his pocket knife

while daniel was in the back, playing with his pocket knife, and brian hates the idea

of dying, but every time daniel picked up his pocket knife, he would hold it to brian’s neck and

say, come on little woosey, allow me to stab you, man, allow me to stab you, and brian’s mate

from 1989  was screaming through houses,,saying shut up, every time brian tried to be a family

person, despite not really meaning to do that, he just did that to make the other young dudes to like him

and brian massaged nicheals neck, and micheal said, stop it, or i will get this knife, and put it right to

your neck and then daniel jumped into the back seat and said, come on little woosey, except me

as i am holding this knife to ya, i want to scare you off from being a family person, cause youy

are too woosey to be a family person anyway, brian, and daniel picked up the pocket knife and

said, i will stab you woosey, brian said, i am a famous family person, and daniel said, yeah, a

family person to a ****, yeah and famous only to your mothers eyes, only, if you try and be like us, brian

i will get this knife and stab you in the neck, cause you are a little trouble making woosey, and

brian said, leave me alone, i am reformed, i haven’t done a crime for years, and this person

said, no you are not reformed buddy, be like us buddy, your not reformed brian, brian said

i am reformed, it’s daniel and micheal that need to be reformed, and you need to be reformed

too, and then daniel held a knife to brian’s neck and said you ain’t a man, your too woosey

to be a man, your not reformed brian, and brian said, i am so reformed, i don’t need this

awful treatment i am getting from you, you see micheal was playing with his pocket knife

he looked like bart simpson, and daniel kept on holding the knife to brian’s head saying

no your not, you ain’t reformed, buddy, you are a little woosey, and brian screamed out

I AM NOT A LITTLE WOOSEY, I AM FAMILY PERSON, WOULD YOU STOP TREATING ME

LIKE A HOOLIGAN, I HATE HAVING A POCKET KNIFE TO MY HEAD, IT’S NOT A FUCKEN PRISON

brian was horrified that daniel was going to **** him, and micheal wasn’t that gentle with his pocket knife either

and brian said, it’s not a prison, and then said, please don’t treat me like a little woosey, for i am a family person

and then brian jumped out of the window, saying, I AM REFORMED, please leave me the **** alone, and

then brian took off through the paddock, back to his house, and never saw daniel and micheal again,

good riddens to bad ******* thought brian, as brian sat in his house watching foxtel thinking about how stupid micheal and

daniel are, the end
Lauren Dec 2018
Procrastination
(Clap, Clap, Clap)
Sixty-four
(Clap, Clap, Clap)
No repeats
(Clap, Clap, Clap)
Or hesitations

I go first
You go second.
Do we attempt
this ungodly mess?

Mountains and mountains
of ten-page study guides
A presentation Friday
Jesus Christ!

Do I study?
Should I sleep?
I don’t know
It’s all too much.
(Clap, Clap, Clap)
Scurry hurry
Shaking hands shaped by worry
tie the knot of plastic
A bubble home for the hard green cup
where brown and white
mixed lay married.

Wash rush
Dainty legs in dark blue denim
hasn't time to be romantic
A worn out sister played by hope
shuts the door panting.

  It clings to a robust tree
  head hidden under rosy pink    
  protective shield
  edged in yellow

  The fireflies

  
Sticky webs of empty lies packaged in boxes of deception by the wizard that doesn't work
sit dead on the small bedside table
like the results they provide.

Boxes and boxes of cozy containers
and cards of capsules
47 I counted them
current and extras
They choke my sight
then I am groped by the smooth blue robes worn by the youthful shepherd
posing aside a grey rock looking yonder
into the distance as insta-natural as possible in a pastel painted picture framed in wood against the wall.
  
  Unstable molecules in tiny airtubes,  
  many, breakdown and explode
  like little landmines
  A bio-luminescent lit ***** assaults a  
  dense night flashing brilliant
  to find a mate
  Six strong neon-green throbbing blinks
  Six slow seconds of unimaginable
  wordless dreamless dark.

  are bright.

  
I turn my head
The whole unsettling mass of reality
is torn apart into vibrant colorful morsels,
then reassembled
as my eyes  
settle
on

Her

"Oh God, if you're here, heal her now
and you'll have me. Show me what those confident tongues so eagerly confess.
Please!"

NOTHING
Another sticky empty square
covered in thick black-strap molasses
slapped to the face of the fool
who likes sweet things.

BUT

What happened to the omni-this, omni-that CEO of God enterprises?
"Go on Death" is what that means
"Go on Death do your job" is what it does

"It's your time.
It's to test your faith.
Gods plan."
All slogans for the man
who believes and dies.
  Culture creates the fool
  Hope keeps the fool
  Belief kills the fool
Thanks for doing what all those boxes
and all the pictures
on all the walls of the world do

FOOL

Her face,
a gaunt kind of skin-to-bone sight
a bad flavor
like a meal with no taste

Her mouth,
crack-lipped, framed by dry
delivers deadly blows to a heaving chest
that says; "Give me air"
yet lungs say no

Anguish,
is ****** from the pit of my cold stomach
then up through the spirit of a warm heart
I plaster the feeling in the shape of water.
My eyes puddle

I weep

It sticks

Love,

Falls

Fluttering as a twinkle
through soft beams of sunlight,
the drop glistens
plops
then dies
on the pink and blue checkered blanket.

All I have to offer are busky palms
to soothe this battered body
before you are torn apart by what
puts things like us together.

I swallow her frame

Her calf - bone

Squeeze and move

Her thigh,
my hand wraps completely
pinching a sausage sized piece of muscle
not big enough to walk
between plump thumb
and meaty middle

Squeeze and move

Her hip bone is angular
It fits flush in my hand
like the hard front peak of a cricket cap
when held above the grid

Squeeze and move

My chunky tentacles massage over
wire-thin barely blue throbless veins
that decorate her meatless paws
and twig-like fingers.

Squeeze and move
  
  It's after midnight
  Thick curds of desperation push
  again, through a splendid backside
  a special toosh
  slogging a dancing night-fever
  to beat the two-to-four,
  a beam as bright as a green day
  cuts through the black pitch of night

  

I hold her hand
A thin filling between two slices of mine
I look at her eyes and turn away

Have you ever been pulled from the center of  your heart, ripped head first through the narrow crack of your own chest, tossed aside like a skin-sheet onto a concrete glass-covered floor then squashed beneath the majesty of a billion dancing floor-clapping feet attached to a shapeless void shapeshifting as slideshows  between all things gone, here, and still to come, stopping on the body of a small blue boy that sings in ghostly echo;
"Don't turn away from this.
Look till you see me through the eyes of another because this too
will happen to you
Clap clap clap clap!
I'm coming for you.

Trapped in a square tunnel made of brick, walls wide enough for one bus no brakes to speed through, no escape,
I accept what will squash me
I Face it
I Stand before it

I stare at her eyes staring back at me
A deep dagger stare
Two parts steel
meshed
until there is only steel
It melts

I simmer the room in soft whisper;
"It's okay. It's okay. It's okay."
I hold her hand,
patting the top as I warm the bottom
I smile for her, at me
I smile back, as me
  
  A skillful mimic
  Here I come
  I have light and breath
  I see yours
  I come at night
  Not for genes or ***
  I hunt and gut
  Hawking down I come as death

  
The gaps between her labored breaths become bigger and for a second I drift at the sight reappearing on the sandy dunes of an empty dessert space pushed by a dying wind I can barely feel.

A sharp salty tang toils the tip of my tongue and brings me back to her.

Her eyes

They have changed

Open

But

Soul

   less

     Soulless

     Desolate

   Like

That dessert

And that place where


*The Fireflies Lose their Light
The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.

I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.

But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.

The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.

I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

And still we rise.
Fish The Pig Apr 2015
If you’re a useless ******* and you know it clap your hands
- clap clap -
If you’re pathetic waste of space and you know it clap your hands
- clap clap -
If nobody cares about you and there’s nothing you can do
If you wanna cut out your heart and throw it clap your hands
- clap clap -
TP’s back on the market shelves
Easy to find Purell
Lots of bleach for you to drink
And lots of gloves to sell
Clap Hands

Numbers go up instead of down
Nobody’s staying home
They all go out without a mask
When they decide to roam
Clap hands

Everyone’s invincible
“It couldn’t strike me down”
I’m an invisible carrier
Busy all over town
Clap hands, clap hands

I feel a tickle in my throat
And a little raspy cough
It’s getting sort of hard to breathe
I need to take time off
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

NO more clapping of the hands
Now is the time to pray
That you’ll survive this killer big
And live another day
Go wash those hands, don’t clap them.
ljm
Thomas W Case challenge -  reference a Tom Waits song for a poem.  I chose the most obvious one.
Connor Mar 2015
Our lives are roles in the constant show entertaining
unquenchible audiences of impermanence,
death applauds and bows his hat
the charcoal curtains slide in to dusk
and stage lights flash on break of day.
Everybody to your places!
stars are exploding in distant galaxies
and a black hole the size of twelve billion suns
is absorbing this universe as we laugh and as we weep.
Rome had fallen and we too shall fall as all things do
clap! clap! clap!
Our lives are told from our ankles
we're praying and meditating and chanting
while the candles bury cathedrals on their last few minutes of light.
clap! clap!
dreaded oblivion is in our rifles and bombs,
in our hearts it's lurking that  ruinous leviathan,
The snapping inclination for decadence
is always there backstage shadow of mind.
Progress has been built on increasingly violent tragedies
there's only so much blood this sponge can soak
this earth can take.
clap! clap! clap!
Someday we'll be engulfed by cosmic grenades manufactured by
all those gods we read in books and pamphlets
and while our little corner of the macrocosm fades to black
it'll continue much the same some light years away.
The show must go on!
Isabella H Jan 2012
Artificial honey milk without devotion,
With ground bread of ticking experimentation so near by.

I walk and dwell so carelessly to have sensitive skin so marked easily,
I look at myself what type of mask will it take to cover my imperfection of vice verses.

Woke up,
My,Dear,Oh,Dear,

Agony of sadness in front of me,
It pains me oh so dear,
In all my might I can do so little for,

My,Dear,Oh,Dear.


In and out of the door of no return til sun to sunset,
I feel myself dragging my stone block shoes of navigation.

So plain and throbbing  circumstances of low degree of particles,
Floating around.

Momentarily , It's quiet over.

Then rewinding a sorrowful movie.

Until it forwards into something.
Concentration
(clap clap clap)
64
(clap clap clap)
no repeats
(clap clap clap)
or hesitation.  

What if I hesitate,
to concentrate
and what if I hesitate
to love
to live
*to breathe
TP’s back on the market shelves
Easy to find Purell
Lots of bleach for you to drink
And lots of gloves to sell
Clap Hands

Numbers go up instead of down
Nobody’s staying home
They all go out without a mask
When they decide to roam
Clap hands

Everyone’s invincible
“It couldn’t strike me down”
I’m an invisible carrier
Busy all over town
Clap hands, clap hands

I feel a tickle in my throat
And a little raspy cough
It’s getting sort of hard to breathe
I need to take time off
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

NO more clapping of the hands
Now is the time to pray
That you’ll survive this killer big
And live another day
Go wash those hands, don’t clap them.
ljm
asija Mar 2015
Thunder
Boom, Clap, Crash
It frightens the little girl
Thunder
Boom, Clap, Crash
The little cat meows
Thunder
Boom, Clap, Crash
Outside, people run from it
Thunder
Boom, Clap, Crash
It strikes a tree
Thunder
Here is one of the poems I wrote
Jasmin A May 2016
Clap.*
                                                                         From the man in the back with a heart of gold sitting beside his mother.

Clap.
                                                                         From his mother who is having the time of her life because it's coming to an end.

Clap.
                                                                         From the girl in the front row with the abusive father and dead mother whom she feels watching over her shoulder.

Clap.
                                                                         From the old veteran next to her holding a picture frame of his late wife and a daffodil repeating the words "to new beginnings".

Clap.
                                                                         From the little boy watching from the balcony trying to understand why mommy is crying now.

Clap.
                                                                         From his mother, the thirty-year old divorcee, crying because the music is over and the curtains are closing and she felt free before the end.

Clap.
                                                                         Because this place holds freedom from the real world's problems when we do not want to face them.

Clap.
                                                                         To hold onto that freedom.
Lunar Jul 2015
Narukami no sukoshi toyomite
     (A faint clap of thunder)
sashi kumori
     (Clouded skies)
Ame mo furanu ka?
     (Perhaps rain comes)
Kimi wo todomemu
     (If so, will you stay here with me?)

Narukami no sukoshi toyomite
     (A faint clap of thunder)
furazu to mo
     (Even if rain comes not)
warewa tomaramu
     (I will stay here)
imoshi todomeba*
     (Together with you)
here's a tanka which i got from the japanese animated movie, Kotohana no Niwa (The Garden of Words). I just love the question and response written in the text.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
.i. if Kant could have his von Kleist... well... who else to juggle juggernauts if not me? as a task of redeeming that poor soul who succumbed to the terminator of all poetic ambitions, with his systematisation off-the-page, as eccentric and punctual as a sunset on a sundial at 16:11... and in case either the spring of sunrise, or the autumn of sunset... but so many hours after exacting a sunset... that gluttony of the eyes to stare at it... 16:11 is the zenith of a sunset in november the 15th... much prolonged when warmer... supersized sun when setting in summer, and all that whiskey-copper wiring for the eyes to stare at it: oh for goodness sake, who really cares for Ikea likened assembling of words... we're not putting together a coffee table, we're looking for Darwinistic entrapment, we're scared of the aeons and yawns... we're trying to create a Darwinistic entrapment saying what segregates us from apes! that's how anti-Darwinism works - if they can easily call you a poet and a technophobe... then that hardly makes you a merchant with a Quran... to encapsulate the language of our modernity we're doing everything against writing the onomatopoeia of our beginning... monkey ooo! monkey ooo ah ah! or a gorilla grunting and then snorkeling... we're encapsulating our language more and more... because beginning with ape and then looking at history, and then looking at the consensus of the contemporary: Darwinism's greatest enemy is not theology... it's history... Darwinism and history are not compatible... oddly enough Darwinism and theology are compatible, simply because they are dynamically equal for the case of furthering both arguments in debate... but Darwinism is an odd starting point to argue, given that physicists argue from the perspective of prior to dinosaurs, prior to all things formed.

how can i begin this? it will leave me having to
write it for two days,
the anti-narrative sketch first, then filling in
the gaps sober... just to get second opinions...
i might have to cook a quasi-Hungarian borscht
and fry up a few potato flattenings to a crispy
yum... first the narrator comes in to describe what's
in store, a bit like a translator comes in and says
of Joyce: that's Irish... well, yeah.
               hence the italic preface...
as some would say, the person who wrote these
sketches worked quicker that an algorithm in asking
and also quicker to copy & paste the required
atomic encoding... e.g. ч and ch
                   э and euro and epsilon...
      once upon a time there was nothing prior
to Copernicus, then the somersaults came,
    h ч y        what coordinates where?
    well of course perfecting the encoding of something,
if things weren't stated awry there would be
no optometrists either...
                  it's not hard to read, it's hard to
remember how to read, given that being literate reached
the omnipresent velocity, the new powers had to
include some new power struggle...
mingling Latin and Runes, Greek and Cyrillic...
     and the proto-Latin of additional diacritical marks...
they exposed the entirety of humanity to literacy
within the framework of post-industrial society,
after hitchhiking a ride on the 19th century donkeys
they suddenly had to reveal their power-secret of
being literate, and by the account of women:
corset bound and bored in salons...
      but something else appeared that didn't really fascinate
them: that over-complication of Latin with
punctuation marks above letters: or diacritical
distinction, crowns over letters, subatomic particularisation
of once favoured: universal applicability...
as a narrator? i have to make a complicated
introduction, the sketch lends itself to do so,
it suggests that not all writing can be as simple as
a nursery rhyme, not all writing can actually
    **** memory, not all writing desires being remembered,
not all writing can be remembered,
                in the mediation of the two chiral opposites
there's fiction, which is suspended in an armchair of
pleasurability... but on the opposite side of a nursery rhyme
or a well versed poem? writing akin to arithmetic...
  something truly painful for those competent with
lettering, but not really competent with ten digits...
      as a narrator who has already read the sketch,
i'm trying to not write a "filling in the gaps" to the sketch
like an art-critic might do to a painting deviating from:
brushstrokes were employed. well... d'uh!
variation of italics as in transcending the pause that
implies a condescending variation of taking a pause,
also excluded are: dot, comma, hyphen, semicolon
and colon.                         dot-dot-dot is not joining up
the dots: it implies a variation of how to anticipate
a punchline: drummed: tu-dum wet snare!
     i am actually a narrator who is trying to find
that other part of me that might digest this sketch properly,
     and return fully competent to pick up another
sketch... if ever there was a narrator in this sketch,
it has to be me, after the sketch has been scripted,
and i am left to suggest a need for a dot-dot-dot connectivity
of the strokes of the pen...
i warned myself: do not overdo the introduction in italics,
you know how picky people are...
whether pickled pineapple of cucumber...
i swear Turks invented pickling chillies...
         oh look! an inflatable gazebo filled with helium!
no one's laughing: only because i didn't mention vegina.
narrative puritanism? you get distracted a lot...
but this sketch is really a thesis for narration,
all i have to do is find the antithesis of narration in it:
an actual narrative!          it stretches for ~30 pages...
   well that's me turned archaeologist with a Grecian urn
with a snap of the finger... because that's how this
sketch looks like: ancient -
                         but understandably modern.
              so .  ,  - and ;
        were racing... out came the world record
             9.58(0)         the full-stop is the bracket-bound
0... i.e. it actually happened: hence the pinpoint...
or in Formula 1 a timed nonsense of ave. m/ph
     noted to three decimal points: 130.703...
                                    or chicane cha chicane cha cha!
as said, this is an actual representation of a narrator
encountering this sketch: so before you lose your head...
i've lost mine!
  look at the correlation though!
we've gone way past atoms with the atomic bomb
and encountered subatomic particles...
    we're not going to get beyond subatomic particles
because we're going to encounter the already apparent
reality of obatomic particle: namely our bodies,
   the perceived ******* (ob- is the antonym
                                                  prefixation of sub-):
             that's were the microscope adventure ends,
    and this is parallel to cutting up a second with
three decimal points, as the safetynet suggests:
                                                              π / 3.14;
yep, the obstructive - hence we can't spontaneously
combust... but then again Goethe's Werther did:
  out of love... down the spiral: you sweet little *******.

~ii. i'm actually too lazy to write the sketch and fill
in the blanks... so i'm going to fill in the blanks as i go along,
  or that's what's called the rebellious stance of narrator: mmm,
work in progress, could you see that coming?


ii. a beer in between glugs of whiskey - runes
combined in the ******* / sigma, variant of agliz or
the rune-zeta extended toward a dark shadow of the rebirth
of Ishrael: zoological enclosure; sigma *******
sigma ******* sigma *******, sigma *******...
rune-zeta... we cannot say there are ******
mathematicians and poets akin,
not then one optic encoding states
     a b c d e
         another states f u þ a r
yet another а б (ρ) в г
  α β γ δ:
for worth of gamma into a trill only because of
   a wave, that's ~ approx. on the side of the letter
   e.g. г & r.
   or rho upside down? what the ****?
did Voltaire write this? reading Candide,
i hope he ****** did!
you the problem is pixelated paper? if you know
how you enter a deciphering mode...
                    but you require a personal library to boot,
all that dos formatting,
                       well there's formatting in the humanity
outstretch of this white medium too...
after it isn't all ******* white when all the psychiatric
pills are white too... i have really found something better
than the Bermuda Δ...
       Greek, Latin, Cyrillic and Runes...
i could say neo or proto otherwise,
but i still haven't unearthed the sketch, that
is probably puzzling the Danes, with Cnut on the forefront...
                    but the arrangement of numbers is universal,
but it's not universal, given the particularity of
how language is encoded and why some people are
richer than others...
            but it's still a beer between glugs of whiskey that
makes more sense...
i said, retype the sketch and go to bed...
and i figured: that's probably the wisest of all possible
events stemming from this...
    that's ~27 pages of notes to retype... and i'm already
in a disclosure mode as to expect what's to be jargoned...


p. 1        cкεтч       /      σкεтχ
   necessity of                        (acute
a-       -the           (ism)
is that of language structure,
          only from the use of one's language does
a deity present itself: from within the noumenon
ground work, not the reverse, as in from
(pp. 2, 3)
                 a phenomenological exercise in
the use of language: Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, (etc.)...
       e.g. Islam is a phenomenon,
  it's not a noumenon: or a thing-in-itself...
  for the Islamic god to emerge from Islam's-in-itself
Islam will have to prevent itself from being-outside-itself...
or overpowering other in-itself contentions
but still: to no apparent success narrative of true intention
as satisfactory appropriation and hence lending itself
to a widespread nod of approval.
  challenging space: word compounding, or the space
between conjunctional deficiencies: nod-of-approval (e.g.).

p. 2    concussion (great film, Alec and Will, 2015, NFL)
concussion... Blitzkrieg Alzheimer's....
brain is fat.... dementia = attacking proteins...
  steroids... the noumenological use of language:
e.g. that ****** is an enigma,
therefore his views will not go viral,
and he'll not become fashion trendy...
it's not individualistic idealism, it's reality.
as will die sonne satan - orbis reach more than 5K
views... so... clap clap... clap, clap.
           what i meant about the a-     and -the
and the ism is following a sentence that sort of
does away with conjunctional fluidity,
apart from the big words, i treat all minor words as
categorically conunctional... and, the, a, is, to, too...
given the sentence: brain fatty *****,
brian organic giraffe wall... ******* hieroglyphic...
           stood above the rest, rest assured.
  dementia: invading protein cells
   (bulging prune of the opportune: purely
digestion?) no thought to eat or eat itself like,
cannibalistically. the brain is fatty...
not fat in muscle for mmm, schmile and flex
for the selfie. how about a protein inhibitor?
(by now, rewriting the sketch, i've lost the page count,
it's actually p. 5 of note paged toward 27).
how about the explanation that we're living in
times of post-industrialisation and thanksgiving
feminism? to me post-industrialisation has created
a class of meaningless white-collar workers
and no blues... it's what the Chinese blues call
the Amazonian nomads: ******* happy...
no amount of crosswords or sudoku will exert
your body to do things for others...
   no amount of mind games will actually tell your
brain to be equipped with: a bunch of hyenas... run!
dementia is a result of creating too many
white-collar jobs (thanks to feminism)
and exporting the blues to China (thanks to feminism
and: oh i broke a nail, can i get a Ching plumber to
fix my heating while i get a ****** to **** me up my
****?!) - maybe i'm just dreaming...
it's great to censor dreaming, i mean: you stop dreaming,
you get to see reality, and you don't even need to
read Proust on a ricochet.
  - so we have brain as fat, and invader cells as protein...
protein digests fat... and creates cucumbers out
of people... where do the carbohydrates come into play?
it can't be at the point of a.d.h.d., can it?
     i'm blaming post-industrialisation, the complete
disappearance of the blues (formerly known as the reds,
in the east) for the whites...
or that old chestnut of: my god you're goon'ah luv it!
   to till for worth from the sweat of yer brow -
funny funny funny... to earn your loaf of bread
you will toil...
                   and toil until you are physically assured
that not ghostly / mental life can enter your world /
books... that went well... didn't it?
   i should be tilling a potato plateau rather than
be bound to be writing this epic (by modern standards)
poem...
             but that's the curse of exporting all the blue
collar jobs to China, then importing mindless
white collar jobs to the west, what the hell do you think
would happen, not the pandemic of dementia?
if you do not exert the body, and then you do not
exert / exhaust the mind... do you think
you can secure a narrative with a post-industrial
westerner on the premise of that person simply being
able to solve a crossword? well... i believe in santa
claus too... but i don't believe in him giving out
presents... because to me, in my oh-so-called maturity
that's called an anagram of satan's clause: which is a legal
term for: i can turn civilisation into shrapnel
of what's said and what's to be said: and what's not to be
said. people can't expect to turn honest labour
for the recreational run on the treadmill in a gym...
and they can't expect photocopying in an office space
to replace Newton's curiosity, and then compensate
all this distraction with mind-games...
          can they? well... they did!

poets are gagged by writers of prose,
no wonder they write so sparingly,
      they are gagged in the sense that they write
as if asphyxiated: they need breathing room.


well sure, if he can revive the Polish steel industry
and i can go back to steel plates and pillars,
then the rust belt will get a polishing also.

or what's called: shrapnel before the waterfall of
narration: darting eyes, and poncy **** all the way through...

     muse... muse...

        well, how about we take the fluidity out of language?
declassify certain words into one grammatical broth,
say words like i and they
                              a  and the    are all conjunctions?
how about that? let's strip it bare, after all: what categories
of words exist for us to primarily speak (let alone think)?
     nouns, verbs, adjectives... adverbs?
       but all those words in between are so jungly classified
into a tangle that i'm about to sprout a handshake
          of a Japanese vine grip: and never let go...

an actual extract from the sketch:

      https that doesn't recognise UCS
                   and insists on IPA cannot be deemed
       encyclopaedic


              i need runes for this! i need runes for this idea!
i don't need transliteration right now...
                but hey! that's an idea, etymological transliteration...
bugly term, sure, but the previous night i was thinking
  of transcendental etymology, as you do, likened to
carbohydrates... so it was transliteration after all...
but a dead end when it comes to geometry and Pythagoras...
      
    three words... and they are computerised (i guess you
have to buy a decent book to decode this), a bit like
buying paint in a d.i.y. shop...
       16DE (dagaz / d) 16DC (ingwaz / ŋ / grapheme of n & j)
                  16DF (ōþala / Valhalla / o / ō = oo),
in total d'njoo / d'nyoo - even i concede the fact that this
is a ******* mind-******... it's a ****** congregation of
four optic encodings of phonos... i moved away from
the ancient greek fetish for the logos... i'm looking at
the phonos... not the logos with Heraclitus et al.
               φº θ þ фª f

ªgreek
  ºcyrillic                ever see a prettier pentagram?
                      i haven't.

(false original title:
škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic - pending)

looking at the phonos is painful, actually painful,
it's like reading a book with a myopic pair of glasses:
a ******* aquarium blurry right there, befor...

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

'e'? were you: was i, looking for an 'e'?

i can say this much...
what do you get when you mix a shot
of whiskey with a shot of bourbon:
i'm moving between bottles...
it's nearing christmas eve and i'm a ripe
taoist... i.e. i better this world:
by not having the world mind me...
on the odd occasion: oh... you're still here?!

yeah... i'm still here... i have glued-to-fascination
with my shadow... i'm just waiting
for the atom bomb to relieve me of a body
but ensuring my shadow is kept intact...
as if it were a Monet signature on a wall...

but i lament... the momentum has vanished...
i don't even know why i'm so idiotic as
to presume that: from the hour 22:00GMT
to the hours 00:00 circa 00:30GMT...
something will land into my lap,
my lisp... my cranium the oyster shell
my tongue the oyster...

it will not... i can't simply **** anything into
an existence that doesn't want to exist...
perhaps lurking in a canvas of:
"lost luggage" in an airport...
perhaps "there"...
i could be excused my... lethargy...

when was this written? back in 2018?
so i was thinking about teasing cyrillic even then?
wasn't i?
sketch cкэтч or?

what do you get when you mix a shot of whiskey
with some bourbon?
a Burguandian whisker...
i am not going to sound witty...
Ron's key...

that's still a cyrillic "or"... isn't it?
шкиц: škic...

i'm... deflated... nothing "new" has come my way...
i would have thought that...
reading some Knausgård would have /
could have... invigorated me:
reading him was supposed to be my:
dialysis my transfusion!
my zombie-go-to-literature...
it has proven an exhaustive enterprise
to begin writing again:
i became too comfortable
in reading - i almost forgot
the agony of writing...

alas... a contemporary of mine...
and someone well adjusted to prose...

notably: who would have thought
that death in june - the calling (MK II)
was something to be recorded in 1985...
for one: i wouldn't...

but i did begin: back in november 2016...
begin what? to tickle the cyrillic alphabet...
which is way before i discovered my reply
to the runes... to the ancient greek...
and this... "ancient", ahem... still in use...
latin script...

that script that went into the molloch couldron
of being invested in to code...
pristine as the hebrews cited:
how many holes in it?
to write onto a canvas of 0?
q Q R O o p P A a D d g b B...
which leaves...
W E T Y U I S F H J K L
Z X C V N and M "out of the equation"...

škic / cкэтч / φº θ þ фª f: thespian pandemic (pending):
i better rename it as... circa 2016...
that's way before i even acknowledged
the cyrillic text applying diacritical markers...
i thought them too crude at the time...

beside borrowing outright from greek...
the already at hand oddities of glagolitic,
notably: Ⱎ...Ⱋ...

it's only a single word i'm using...
i have abandoned all notions of metaphysics
in favor for orthography...
i'm not going to burden myself
with: what's after the physics...
i'm after: what's now...
in the respective tongues...
2 tongue deviations from
the original latin and greek...

what came with the runes and what
came with the glagolitic scripts...
what was ****** and had to succumb
to inter-breeding...

come 2020... i will have one clarification
to base my existence on...
pronouncing the growth of my ****** hair...
i will hope to aim at a length of beard
that will forever hide the neck...
i will aim at... somewhere to the level
of my heart... when i will then manage
to turn my beard into an orchestra's
nieche of violins when i procrastinate with it...

since 2016...
i have identified russian in ******...
i've seen it... finally!
зъaрт... i.e. żart
and the "hard sign" becoming a "soft sign"
in źrenica: зьрeницa...

i still think the russian orthography
is... as... primitive as the western slavic...

after all... зъ = ż...
зь = ź...
the balkan slavs have a caron...
which is neither a hard or a soft sign / acute...

their caron is... ч (č) or cz...
CHeaper in english...
and their caron is ш (š) or sz...
SHeep...
or the two together...
and always шч (šč): szczekam...
i'm barking...

pu-shch-air... a rare example in english
of the puщair...
but then lookie lookie 'ere:

CZACHA... skull...
ЧAХA...

perhaps this is my "revenge ****" on russia?
hey! boris the kremlin mascoot...
come and 'ave a look...
with how i disect your orthography
on the / with the language that asks
too many metaphysical questions and no
orthographic curiosities!

i'll meet you in Warsaw... given that you're
probably moving from Novosibirsk...
and i'm either in Stockholm...
Edinburgh or the outskirts of London:
Warsaw will be halfway for both of us...
you don't have to like Warsaw...
i only like it when the Ukrainian smugglers
and the Mongols appear
in the West Warsaw coach station...

smart as who? i am discovering this for
the first time myself...
i was only teasing it back in 2016...
way before i found the right sort of accents
in mother russian...

i do know that that crescent oddity:
above the ja: йa... is what it is...
if you only cut off the head in english... ȷ...
again: it's я given that most russians
are pulled toward an anglophile world-view...
they all see the window to europe...
the baltic and st. petersburg is somehow...
London... and the atlantic...
like hell it is...

i guess i feel it was a waste of time to
have re(a)d Kant, simply because:
i'm not here for the schematics...
i want to know how my thought my labyrinth
building architecture is coming along...
but with no one to talk to about it?

i found the categorical imperative most
dissatisfying... i didn't want to abide by universal laws...
poetry is already shoved out of waiting room
of the republic...
if my "poetry" is not a categorical imperative...
and it's not quiet a a hypothetical imperative...
it needs to be sharpened on a thesaurus
and some grammar...

categorical (adjective)... imperative (adjective)...
well two adjectives never imply much
if there's no noun involved...
and i'm pretty sure that... if i sharpen
the next word i'll compound with categorical-
in that hyphen construct that's only
allowed in oxford dictionary english:
since it's not: propergermannonhyphenfaustian:
i.e. carboxylic (carbo-xylic) acidity...

poetry doesn't belong in either
the categorical imperative focus...
nor the hypothetical imperative focus...

i.e. i must write a poem... to feel better...
i must write a poem... to organise my thoughts...
no! a poem is not a maxim is not a categorical
imperative! a language of poetry is not
a language of morality: it's a language
of experience - or a lack / a lackey's "sentiment"...

i need a... categorical: impetus!
it's not enough to have read kant's critique of pure
reason... it must also involved
having re(a)d the: groundwork of
the metaphysics of morals...
but i'm a democratic reader...
i need to hear the other voices...
i can't be a kantian scholar...
a snippet 'ere, a snippet v'ere (funny how
THETA disappears when making the posit:
THERE - ver!)

who needs metaphysical absolutes...
when orthography (or a lack of it)
in english... spreads open its legs...
and the tongue remembers its tongue-brain-phallus
stage of co-existence in the oyster?!

i'm pretty sure that a categorical imperative
is by no means a categorical impetus...
this had to be written,
but it had to be written in order to disregard
anything a priori... prior to it...
a poem is a shady concern for action or inaction...
it's a deviation from the cartesian crux:
res cogitans (thinking thing)...
into the cartesian levy (res extensa)...
it's an action of inactivity...
as much as it's an inactive activity...
"the rest"...

impetus is not an imperative...
an impetus sources its meaning in a per se
investement... of itself - in itself - for itself...
an imperative?
in pronouns... impetus: i want... i will...
imperative? you want... you will...

an impetus is self-dictative...
an imperative is: indicative...
someone would rightly claim...
those that mourn indicatively...
will don the right garments for the process
of mourning...
which is indicative and devoid of
the per se manifestation of mourning...
it is an imperative when compared to
the impetus to mourn -
which is self-dictative...
which does now shallow itself in
grief by making a socially agreed to fiasco
of a very specific choice of wardrobe...

basically: however you like it...
an IMPERATIVE ≠ IMPETUS...
the year is almost over and i want to break-off
the dust from the thoughts that fudge-packed themselves
as worthy of occupying the minor instance
of having to count a depth of:
not dead within the year of being written.
Sydney Victoria Mar 2013
My
Biggest
Addiction
Is
The
Sweet
Sound
Of
Your
Applause*

Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap
My Addiciton Is Applause.. So I Sang An Original Song In Front Of My Whole School And It Went Well So I'm Happy:)
Bob B Dec 2019
So Putin helps Trump win an election
And subsequently feels elated.
He is still anticipating
How he will be compensated.
Who are the ones who cheer and clap
As Putin takes a victory lap?

Watching the Trump administration
Blame and distrust the FBI
Also tickles Putin as Trump
Makes it a target to vilify.
Watch Putin cheer and clap
As he takes a victory lap.

When Trump says he doesn't believe
Our intelligence agents here
But eagerly accepts whatever
Putin tells him, one thing's clear:
Trump is willing to cheer and clap
As Putin takes a victory lap.

When Russia starts a conspiracy theory
And blames Ukraine for election meddling,
Many Trumplicans here believe
The devious lies that the Kremlin is peddling.
How can Americans cheer and clap
As Putin takes a victory lap?

When Trump speaks with the president
Of Ukraine and crudely tries to extort
Favors from the Ukrainians
And threatens to pull U.S. support,
Putin supporters cheer and clap
As Putin takes a victory lap.

As here we see a chilling loss
Of democratic values, we
Will ask ourselves whatever happened
To hope and opportunity.
Who then will cheer and clap
As Putin takes a victory lap?

-by Bob B (12-12-19)
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
some say it's called dart-eyes, a kaleidoscopic venture
that might leave you myopic, oddly enough i know
that people say a lot of far fetched things,
   and the excuses are usually metaphors,
there's the literal cardinal,
the literal spanish inquisition,
  and metaphors of demons in the bible -
          i still want to experience a fully
theocratic world: where man's words come
forth from man, and god's words come from
the mouth of god... again: poetry without
a god is like biology without chlorophyll,
   no one even suggested a kneeling process and
ardent prayer to be invoked,
     all it took was a spare thought away from
the daily commute and the daily invigoration
from some sort of ethic, oddly enough it always
ends up being an ethic of work...
   i guess that's why in the west everyone is
nearing an addiction thoroughly apparent that's
named workaholism... once the relationships
fail, the only saving string of hope is work,
an absurd work ethic, because wouldn't you
take a syringe filled with ink and do shifts in an
office beyond the norm, thus entering the world
of night shifts and anything else antisocial?
   people can't really be friends, we're fired up
toward formal relationships and what's guiding us
to these relationships is hierarchy...
              oddly enough the Aztec or Mayan
pyramids don't have that sort of feel to them,
they don't prescribe interpretations of hierarchy,
quite the opposite,
     ask someone who doesn't have a conquistador
heritage to explain that they are:
  the gallows... guillotines... the tyrant is not
buried within, these aren't caves to entombing a
tyrant with all his riches...
      there are no chambers in these structures...
they were intended as architectural symbols of
common law... those presumptions European
*******... human sacrifice? a myth...
these were sights of capital punishment,
you stepped out of line: you'd get your heart
carved out and your body would drop from
the execution altar down the steps for
           the scavenger mob to tear you apart
even further: had you transgressed communal
consent... justice has to become overpowering
but that does not mean we carve a mount
Rushmore akin to the statues of the valley of
the kings of enthroned pharaohs...
  much of ancient Egypt lingers in what we
call "modernity"... esp. in America...
             and the world is currently establishing
itself into cold war ii (i said that once,
can't remember when)... and until this is firmly
established, that it's clearly accepted that we're
dealing in a cold / intellectual war, then
we'll pass all that intelligence and engage in a hot war /
and emotional war, as characteristic overflowing
of populism, which at present times: has
all the coordinates, but no proper vector to
allow a congregational march toward impeding
dangers... but better a second cold war than
a third world war... so much of ancient Egypt
in America... the washington memorial for one...
what's the other name for it? ah... obelisk;
or what the pagans built to counter the fear of
impotence: well... we've established a bountiful
supply of humans... can we do a floral pattern
now? oddly enough we embraced tomb-pyramid
builders from the north-eastern side of
Africa's brain-dead region, and trusted
conquistadors wiping out a people that used
pyramids to stress the importance of law:
i can't see no reason to think that those pyramids
were intended for human sacrifice...
capital punishment? well, d'uh... because wasn't
Golgotha so unspectacular as to be less
than what it was? had they crucified him in private,
in some back-alleyway crucified to a door,
would history open its doors to the advent of
Christianity? don't think so.
what i'd really love to see is people with
necklaces of silver, and the thing dangling on them
would be a different torture mechanism...
an iron maiden... it's like prescribing pain is
necessary... it's a dogmatic ruling on a once upon
a time
(even the briefest) chance of happiness...
but even then certain philosophers say:
why be happy, when you can be interesting?
how interesting do you have to be so many times over
to not even wish for a stillness of neither want
nor drive to go beyond what you already have?
i don't know if this is an adequate comparison,
but in terms of interesting...
   a movie (side effects, 2013) utilises only two songs
in its official title:
   the focal point of a ******
       is staged to a "sleepwalking" woman preparing
a dinner for three (only two people are in the apartment),
the song? thievery corporation's the forgotten people...
i knew the band prior, and i've seen the film
before... but i never bothered to watch the credits...
i remember the odd couple who'd sit in cinemas and
engage in watching the end-credits, always the one
odd bunch: as if saying thank you to all the people
involve... a quick stroll through a graveyard is probably
comparably akin....
   and the other song? Bach's
   orchestral suite no. 2 in B minor, bwv 1067 -
     but i can't remember whether it's actually featured
in the film, simply because there's no focal moment
in the film where it can be heard as prominently as
the first song... and then there's thomas newman in
between (no surprise);
but a film like that is a meditation...
             if only two songs are used, chances are
the dialogue will have many strengths, because there
will be a multiplicity of consistent reinterpretation,
a bit like talking into a Tate Modern and seeing
Rodin's the kiss statue (inspired by Dante's divine
comedy), sketching it from the northern perspective,
the southern, western and eastern perspectives...
    i've seen few films that accredit a very minimalistic
soundtrack... on that note, how songs could literally
be translated into film titles: side effects - the forgotten people,
  dead poets' society - carpe diem, american beauty -
any other name, are there others? there probably are.

but that's nothing compared to last night's antics...
   some people climb the Everest... clap clap clap...
some people design super-suction vacuum cleaners...
clap clap clap...
                    from time to time i solve sudoku drunk
(no clapping)... but there's a narrative involved,
the narrative goes when you try to map out solving
one of these 81 "rubic" squares... applause for
speed with these babies like applause for premature
*******... aren't they compatible?
   we all have limitations, mine came yesterday,
when i allocated superscript numbers to the journey,
quiet literally an optical tangle, i should have used
       things like ª ' “ ‘ ¨ † above the plotted line...
but it only takes one mistake to ground you
   and then you have to go back and make minute corrections,
as the notes themselves suggest (crazy eyed darting):

exhibit a.

0    0    0    0    0    2    7    0    0
0    0    0    0  ­  4    0    0    2    0
2    0    5    1    0    7    0    0    8
0    9    0    0    0 ­   0    2    0    1
7    0    0    8    0    0    0    6    0
0  ­  0    6    0    7    0    5    0    0
4    0    8    7    0    0­    1    0    0
0    1    0    0    0    5    0    0    0
0    0 ­   9    0    1    0    3    0    0

   exhibit b. html that doesn't allow subscript
            or superscript notation, hence the brackets
   denoting movement (pending)


9 (24)    0          3 (23)    0    8 (5)    2    7    1 (2)    0
1 (12)    8 (8)    7 (9)      0    4          0    0    2          0
2            0         5            1    0          7    0    3 (13)   8
8 (7)       9        4 (18)     0 5 (33) 0    2    7 (1)      1
7            5 (16) 1 (14)     8   2 (20)   0    0    6           3 (21)
3 (19)    2 (17)  6            0   7           1 (15)  5           8 (6)    0
4            3 (27)  8           7   0            0         1            5 (28)    2 (26)
6 (30)    1          2 (22)   4 (31)    3 (32)    5    8 (3)    0    7 (11)
5 (29)    7 (10)    9    2 (25)    1    8 (4)    3    0    0

      it is no surprise that the notation played a key part
in having failed to map out the route taken,
       when you're using numbers in a puzzle
  it's almost an inevitable path to failure,
since you're making superscript "bookmarks" at
high concentration, and without any distinction to
what the puzzle demands, hence you go "cross-eyed"
  in solving the puzzle, and superscripting your progress
using the same symbols that are required to solve it,
but given that the puzzle involves 81 slots
  with 9 x 9 identical components (only so rearranged
  to be not contradict the rule of the puzzle
i.e. 9 symbols in each square of the nine in total,
   with a 9 x 9 variation on all linear arrangements not
involving two similar symbols, i.e.
   1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, rather than 1 2 2 3 4 5 6 7 8) -
what became a hope to correct the mistake, but given
the intricacies of the progress, all the more harder to
recount steps and subsequently move forward with
   the spotted error...
hence a refresh, and the need for schematic,
given that there are 81 slots in total, with
     27 already in place, and given that there are 26
units of alphabet... how handy to actually persist in
using these characters, but adding diacritical variations
to make up 54 necessary, without invoking
      a 10 or a sz...

exhibit c.

0    0    0    0    0    2    7    1ą    0
0    0    0    0 ­   4    0    0    2    0
2    0    5    1    0    7    0    0    8
0    9    0    0    0 ­   0    2    7α    1
7    0    0    8    0    0    0    6    0
0 ­   0    6    0    7    0    5    0    0
4    0    8    7    0    ­0    1    0    0
0    1    0    0    0    5    0    0    0
0    0­    9    0    1    0    3    0    0

exhibit d.

nb. α = 1, ą (ogonek) = 2, á (acute) = 3, à (grave) = 4,
â (circumflex) = 5, ä (umlaut) = 6, cedilla missing,
   ã (tilde) = 7, b = 8, c = 9, ć = 10, č (caron) = 11,
ĉ (circumflex) = 12, ā (macron) = 13, ç (cedilla) = 14,
d = 15, e = 16, é = 17, è = 18, ê = 19, ě = 20, ë = 21,
f = 22, g = 23, ǧ = 24, ḡ = 25, ĝ = 26
         (now i figure, could have used Greek... d'uh!
ahh, i'll use it for the finishing touches),
        h = 27, i = 28, ı = 29, í = 30, î = 31, ï = 32, μ = 33
j = 34, δ = 35, k = 36, λ = 37, ł = 38, τ = 39, n = 40,
ń = 41, ñ = 42, o = 43, ō = 44, ø = 45, p = 46,
q = 47, r = 48, s = 49, γ = 50, φ = 51, χ = 52, ψ = 53, ω = 54.

before i begin the puzzle... there's a reason why a caron
g (ǧ) might exist, and why a grave z might not...
   and why there's a piquant difference between
an acute z (ź) and ż - depending on the aesthetician,
who decides to move away from the national linguistico-aesthetic
dogma... for example the name George,
orthodoxy states you must learn the aesthetic version
of Grze'gosz... but you would also be able to write
the alternative: Ǧegoš - given that rz is equivalent to ż,
    and given that there is no grave accenting of z,
but there is the acute (ź), perhaps you could consider
the dot a convergence point that could assimilate
sound, immediately over the caron g... of course none
of these remarks are intended for application: because
they would never reach a consideration in a learning
curriculum of any nation, a whimsical idea derived from
the remnants of the esperanto experiment...
  from what i can see, ǧ would equal grz, and
the reason that rz exists at all, and it equivalent to ż
is because a grave version of z is missing, and that
the acute z (ź) exists, and there is no point of balance
that otherwise is the foundation of the caron...
  i wouldn't have thought focusing on such "trivial"
signs above letters provided so much pecking-orders.

exhibit e. focal points in greek notation

9ǧ    4ñ    3g    6o    8â    2    7    1ą    5τ
1ĉ   ­ 8b    7c    5p    4    3q    6ń    2    9ł
2     6γ     5      1      9r    7    4n    3ā    8
8ã    9    4è    3s      5ψ   6ω    2    7α    1
7    5e    1ç    8      2ě    4ø    9ō    6    3ë
3ê    2é    6    9λ    7    1d      5    8ä    4k
4    3h     8    7     6χ    9φ    1    5i    2ĝ
6í    1    2f    4î     3ï      5     8á   9μ    7č
5ı    7ć    9    2ḡ    1     8à     3     4j     6δ

thus completed: there's a reason why the majority
of the narrative is done utilising diacritical marks,
i could have used many more distinct symbols,
but the point is: there are very few focal points
that can be ascribed distinct markings,
most of the puzzle is done on the basis of "crazy eyes",
i.e. darting eyes - focal points do emerge after
much darting about the squares, notably when
a linear sequence is completed, or whenever one of
the 9 squares is completed, or when all nine squares
contain nine 7s or 8s...
      or that's one way to go about not having any whiskey,
the rain pouring outside, and the night stretching
into a near eternity -
            
exhibit f. narrative of correction, actual excerpt

it began at h, i.e. labyrinth corner no. 27,
******* trainspotting! this is going to be like reading
the time for the next train to arrive at Waterloo!
  5(28), 5(33)?, 5(28),
  6(30), 4(31), 3(22), 5(33), 33? 9(38), 4(34),
  6(35), 4(36)...
6(41) < 4(40) < 5(39) < 9(38) < 9(37)....
       4(42) < 6(43) < 9(44) < 4(45) < 5(46) < 3(47) < 9(48) < 3(49) <...>
   6(58) > 9(51) < 6(52)...
        longest period spent on 3(13) / ā -
   and the notation that gave way to this spiral?
5(33), which actually ended up being 5(53) / ψ.
Le Lotus Sep 2014
"Clap! Clap! Clap!"
The curtain pulled up.
They danced, gracefully
To the song, rhythmly
With eyes locked to each other
They smile, beautifully
And dance and dance and dance
"Tap! Tap! Tap!"
The shoes hit the floor
Hold hands,
And dance and dance and dance,
face the audiences,
And smile and smile and smile,
Bow for few seconds,
"Clap! Clap! Clap!"*
The curtains rolled down.

Sweats scattered all around,
But anxious now no where to be found,
Because on that faces of the audiences,
All smiles and excites, No, no big frowns.
Sriram GSN May 2015
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Happy birthday to a friend.
Clap. Clap. Clap.

Cheers. Cheers. Cheers.
Cool wishes to a friend.
Cheers. Cheers. Cheers.

Whistles. Whistles. Whistles.
Joyous one more to a friend.
Whistles. Whistles. Whistles.
Chris T Jul 2013
The stomping of feet
through the streets
as the rain falls
rapidly, and calls
answered by police,
the violence won't cease,
Barricades spring from under,
bullets roar like thunder,
accompanied by children's screams,
blood flows like river streams,
people hang from ceiling fans,
and applause rings for their plans,
the politicians: clap clap clap
in the capitol: clap clap clap
and then like the end of a storm
silence: the new norm,
orphans and tears,
abuse and fears,
the regime has risen,
a new world has risen.
I wrote this I think a year back but I never finished it. I think I'll do it sometime this week but 'till then, here it is as it was.
Sofia May 2014
She's going down
Because of boredom
Open the doors
To Wonderland
She ate the cake
Then drank the potion
She shrunk down
Then grow up
Heellpp , heellpp
Heel-lpp
Heellpp , heellp
Heel-lpp
Ehhh Stupid
Said the Mad Hatter
To ring the tea party
With the March Hare and the Mouse
I'm so thirsty
Could we drink the tea
Remember my...
Aaa-aaa-aaalice
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you feel like her room without a roof
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you feel like Wonderland is the truth
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you know what the moral is made of
Because she's Alice
Clap along if you know that the adventures had just begun
Made by my group Angelica, Joan, Jennifer, Xanath, and I.
Remix with Timber by: Kesha, Fancy by: Iggy Azalea, and Happy by: Pharrell William
run brumbies run

we are giving the force a footy lesson

run brumbies run

yeah we are yeah we are

we are high and they are low

the mighty brumbies are fighting fit ya know

run brumbies run

the mighty brumbies are up 24 to 8

go brumbies

i’s a farce it’s a farce

the nations capital is coming alive

tonight, when the force are in town

you see the brumbies are going to win

well, i ****** well hope so

well, i ****** well hope so

you see it’s a farce it’s a farce

the force are dominating

the force will be on their way to victory

and tonight in the national capital

everyone will cheer

brumbies clap clap clap

brumbies clap clap clap

those mighty brumbies are  great

but is it a farce that the force are

comingt to the national capital

and yelling out live from the nations capital, it’ brumbies night live

great win for the brumbies 27-15
Sam Barger Dec 2013
So no one told you **** was gonna cost this much (clap clap clap clap) Your jobs a joke, you're broke, Can't even buy some lunch. It's like you're always stuck to scraping rez, But, When you can't afford **** or food, you can thank our Pres-i-dent, But, I will smoke with you, until my baggy is no more, I will smoke with you, like I've smoked you up before, I will smoke with you, Because you've smoked with me too.
A Simillacrum Nov 2018
How's it going, these days?
   Pretty good.
How's your family been?
   I wouldn't know--
   I renounced the blood.
   In doing so, I kicked the sick.
   I can't make a better world, but
   I can pen an ending to this ancient curse.

   I can choose a family,
   & I chose the
   vertebrae that
   puts my spine back
   in alignment.

I always had this choice.
Now I can see it.
I can let the blood,
and guarantee the world,
I'll have no progeny.

Trust me, when I say
it's my gift
to you and yours.

;)
Mateuš Conrad May 2017
you know what happens if you ignore a group
of people, that actually belong in your
"stratosphere" of dialgue?
      and invisible man is going to pinch
you back, in your ***.
     oh pooh pooh jews... oh pooh pooh
palestinians...
                  where was the global community
when warsaw was ***** into the ground?
mmm... nowhere...
                    so why the **** should i care now,
about how jews made western society
                                             "claustrophobic"?
what, as in, it's actually a sick-bed's worth
of crucifix to lie in and expect no golgotha
treatment at adoration?
                                    well... isn't that nice...
at this point i'd like to counter human
     "evolution", and say: bring back the sharks!
for one thing, at least my ego would be intact.
not a lot of history lessons emmigrating from
north america back into europe, well, not the ones
europeans would really / seriously care about...
they have disney we have h. c. andersen
            and j. / w. grimm -
but when you disavow a region from being
sympathetic with your values by not talking about
their existence... when you pledge yourself
to a purpose of denying their existence,
     like the so called "eastern europe" is said to be?
i'm going to be applauding holocaust deniers!
     i'll be going: clap... clap... clap... clap clap clap!
encore!                            encore!                 encore!
not when you're of an ethnos similis:
i.e. of a similar ethnicity.
   not then do you get to get to justify penny sweets,
you might justify a r. dahl with having:
                    said, origin... africa!
                     obnoxious colonial *******.
what, did i loose my suntan along the day?
      why should africa be the heart of all historical
              etymologies? why am i to succumb
to your covert repenting for past guilt?
        why begin everything in africa?
            why wouldn't i want to place my origins in
a region that stated: eskimo!    orc!      the ice age!
       why does it have to be africa all of a sudden?
      i live in the north, i want to come from the north!
i don't want to come from a concept of an equator!
     siberia! alaska!          **** this darwinistic *******!
i hate cultural darwinism as much as i hate cultural marxism!
ich bin, nord, ja jestem, północ,
                                   jag är, norr!
but you ignore one of your european brothers
as having, or being worth a discourse...
                             and of course, based on a shared history
of israel as being non-existent for some time...
             what are people talking about these days?
                    should i care?        mmm, hmm, hmm...
                                             not really.
to me it's just media sensationalism,      
    well, i know it's true, but there are over 8 billion
similar examples to fill up the space, the argument for
a need of individuals is as dead as is necessarily dead -
                    argued to the point of expressing a neurosis,
a nerve-sample, of something so obsolete,
  so indistinguishable from the arguments for its
primordial "guiding" authority... that it only bred
                     a guilt culture, a voyeurism culture,
                             a dietary rather than a diety culture...
                      ultimately... a celebrity culture...
         where nothing... nothing! nothing is celebrated in
either act... or thought! it's just needlessly perpetuated
            for the same conclusions, which states
the only conclusion:     we have achieved the zenith!
       all we have, actually achieved,
                                      is an unshakeable plateau.
Alex McQuate May 2018
Great tragedy suffered,
Impossible circumstances conquered,
The warrior walks upon the field flanked path.

The wanderer's armor tells a tale,
Battle scarred and partially rent asunder,
A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath,
Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier.

The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world,
Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall.

A trickle becomes a downpour,
The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop,
The message firmly planted within their mind.

Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace,
Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped.

The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency.

The rain is cold upon the faces of those that it falls on,
The torn edges of metal digging in at places,
Some already wounded and tender,
As the final hilltop between them is crested.

The gates are closed,
And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out,
A fist is raised,
The declaration of allegience given,
An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted,
And a challenge of one's path,
Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth,
Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal.

A long ago promised gift to be rewarded,
For all the things endured,
Things that could be considered so cruel,
The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane,
As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released,
For the first and only time.

These things ringing out dispite the storms roaring wind,
Gathering force,
Perhaps in affirmation of the warriors words.

After a pause the gate begins to lift,
It's metal screeching,
The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the embattered soldier is bathed in light,
Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders,
As the threshold is finally crossed.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
take-away pizza, that's all it took to consider this observation; take-away pizza... take-away food-stuffs are so, *******, depressing, and so m.g.t.o.w.-ish... of the the joys of preparing your own food; it's almost like reviving the "idea" of a house-wife... imagine it though, saving the culinary orthodoxy of such said "attachés"; i cherish the well-valued time of cooking one's own meal, than breaking the backs of bangladeshi migrants in soft-sock factories... no! *******! i'll eat my own, once i've cooked it, myself! keep these lazy western europeam t.v. junkies, out of my agenda! *****, keep the migrants keep ******* on your take-away pizza... come on... watch me clap... clap... clap clap... clap clap clap... as if before a high jump!*

this isn't real, as you might expect,
such is the bond, existent,
between my mother and my father,
it's near-mythical,
   all she has to undergo is a hernia
operation,
  i'm a veteran in the procedure,
i was operated on several times,
first was my own hernia:
  thank you chernobyll -
now i really feel like being part
of the x-men...
   but it ******* stings...
      my father isn't a big talker,
after all, he was abasoned by his
       mother, and father, and wai
raised by hir paternal grandparents,
so the heartbreak is already there,
i have to deal with, every time i ask...
and i've met my paternal grandfather
once or twice,
   he called me his "buddy",
  and i replied with woe and agony:
i'm not your friend...
           as he was walking,
what i might expect to be my half-cousins...
****** didn't even have the tenacity
to call me his grandson,
   and he died, as we all do...
   and they wrote on epitaph:
a great worker...
          i walked past his grave,
peering at it,
   they didn't even bother to make
his name into an imprint, nor his
day & death date...
    not worthy the chisel,
written in ink...
  that's how you write the koran
on the tablets of the ten commandments...
the 11th amendment?
                  what about usury?!
i thought the ancient hebryes were
against magic, were against what usury
has become...
              fellas! we've been wrong
all along! we've found the philosophers stone!
it's there for the taking!
  look! usury! it manages to stealth tax people
into a skeletal grave...
      usury! usury! usury!
         but **** me,
looking at my father watering the flowers,
and my mother in hospital with
a minor operation concerning a hernia:
i had mine...
   thank you chernobyll...
  and what emerges?
    i'm a ******* when it comes to women,
i can't deny that,
   that's why i entertain prostitutes from
time to time,
   toughens the heart...
                but if this is what
m.g.t.o.w. movements comes down to?
      i won't say pathetic concerning my father,
but, ****!
       it looks pretty **** salt-on-the-wounds
type of material...
            do i look pathetic
acquiring so much sentiment for
   cats, or dogs?
       unlikely... i look liberated by comparison...
but that's the dice throw to think
about...
       men like my father,
who took to bringing an accomplice
that's my mother... well...
   when you invest so much into a woman...
that leaves you begging to try
to write a book, but never being able to...
        why bother?
  what sort of man would want to write
books, while at the same time write
the book that's woman?
   some fanciful idiot who can't sing
or memorise recitations?
                           memory, ah, spledid!
the function that gives man the gravity
of consciousness, and subsequent
articulation of arguments worth the pro-life
brigade...
    and, ah... memory, the function that
erodes, and keeps eroding,
  all other mental functions of worth...
bravo!            bravo!    applause! 'plause!
i've just looked at a m.g.t.o.w. simulation,
and... well... it's far from pretty...
             having a hernia operation
is minor, i already told you:
   i had one when i was a baby...
        when it comes to the details,
   i'm a mean *******...
               i survived two attempts of ******...
i can tune into the energies of fear,
and by fear, turn to bombast,
  and via bombast, attain a script, such as this.
i don't know what to recommend...
    if you spend enough time with women,
and without the women in question,
it's not that you look pathetic,
        but so tragic, that you break every
bone in the body of the person observing,
while at the same time, asking a doberman
pup to gouge your eyes out...
      how ferocious the man without a woman
looks...
       which signifies the opposite in a woman
without a man: how pathetic she looks;
man abides in solitude upon the diet
of feral forces,
                       he's so ******* scared,
that in his anti-phobia: complete-curriculum,
becomes, un-approachable.
believe me, i put my mother
into a coffin, before i extracted an answer
that she was simply in a hospital bed;
hernia? hernia?!
    i had more bother with wisdom teeth...
thank god i kept my third tonsil.
JV Beaupre May 2016
I. Long ago and far away...

Under the bridge across the Kankakee River, Grampa found me. I was busted for truancy. First grade. 1946.

Coming home from college for Christmas. Oops, my family moved a few streets over and forgot to tell me. Peoria, 1961.

The Pabst Brewery lunchroom in Peoria, a little after dawn, "Who wants my sandwich? ****, this first beer tastes good." I won't tell you what he really said. 1962.

At grad school, when we moved into the basement with the octopus furnace, Dave, my roommate contributed a case of Chef Boyardee spaghettio's and I brought 3 cases of beer, PBRs.  Supper for a month. 1962.

Sharon and I were making out in the afternoon, clothes a jumble. Walter Cronkite said, " President Kennedy has been shot…” 1963.

I stood in line, in my shorts, waiting for the clap-check. The corporal shouted:  "All right, you *******, Uncle and the Republic of Viet Nam want your sorry *****. Drop 'em".  Deferred, 1964.

He electrified the room. Every woman in the room, regardless of age, wanted him, or seemed to. The atmosphere was primeval and dripping with desire. In the presence of greatness, 1968.

US science jobs  dried up. From a mountain-top, beery conversation, I got a research job in Germany. Boulder, 1968.

The first time I saw automatic weapons at an airport. Geneva, 1970.

I toasted Rembrandt with sparkling wine at the Rijksmuseum. He said nothing. 1972.

A little drunk, but sobering fast: the guard had Khrushchev teeth.
Midnight, alone, locked in a room at the border, why?
Hours later, release. East Berlin, 1973.

She said, "You know it's remarkable that we're not having an affair." No, it wasn't. George's wife.  Germany, 1973.

"May be there really are quarks, but if so, we'll never see them." Truer than I knew.  Exit to Huntsville, 1974.

Hard work, good times, difficult times. Not fully digested. 15 years in Huntsville and counting.

The golden Lord Buddha radiated peace with his smile. Shots in the distance. Bangkok. 1992.

Accomplishment at work, discord at home. Divorce. Huntsville. 1994. I got the dogs.

New beginnings, a fresh start, true love and life-partner. Huntsville. 1995.

II. In the present century....

I started painting. Old barns and such. 2004.

I quietly admired a Rembrandt portrait at the Schiphol airport. Ever inscrutable, his painting had presence, even as the bomb dogs sniffed by. Beagles. 2006.

I’ve lost two close friends that I’ve known for 50-odd years. There aren’t many more. Huntsville. 2008 and 2011.

Here's some career advice: On your desk, keep a coffee cup marked, "No Whining", that side out. Final retirement. 2015.

I occasionally kick myself for not staying with physics—I’m jealous of friends that did. I moved on, but stayed interested.  2016 and continuing.

Honest distortions emerging from the distance of time. The thin comfort of fading memories. Thoughts on poor decisions and worse outcomes. Not often, but every now and then.
Jessica Jarvis Feb 2018
Upon the dark night, striking three;
A tick representing each step in time,
but time overwhelmed by a trinity
of peace, and a plan greater than one's wildest dreams.

As the trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
a bird sings unto the dark night her song, unique, sweet, and free-spirited

Another beauty upon the night, a tulip,
blossoming, not fully grown, in admiration of this free spirit, the bird.
The tulip observes from a distance the song the bird sings

A praise, a never ending thankfulness
"Thank You for the trees,
Thank You for the waves,
And thank You for me," the bird sings.

In awe of the song bird, the tulip longs to grow, to blossom, to fly, to sing;
Oh, the joy, the praise, the song she'll bring
when fully grown to exemplify her thanks to the three

But, Hold! The clock ticking three, a breath He takes.
The songs of beauty the bird once sang
are silenced more than a whisper

Oh, dear, wilting Tulip; she wonders,
"Why?" she misunderstands, "Why has the bird's song been hushed?"
Oh, so joyful with praise, the songs she sang,
but now unto another Audience, unheard by the flower;

However, the sun rises, the flower realizes,
A new day is upon her. The trees clap their praises unto a summer wind, and
Waves flood the skies with their roaring rumbles of exaltation,
Just like any other day.

Partaking in full bloom overnight, grown, she hears the call of three:
You're unique, sweet, and your free-spirit will sing,
for the steps of time past quicker than the steady rhythm of that clock ticking

Fly free, song bird,
Your legacy will only grow sweeter with time
As the bloom of a tulip smiles and praises the One unto which your song once thrived.
Written sometime around January, 2017.

This was written out of pain: legitimate heartbreak, but I suppose most poetry is, right? This was my first "real" poem that I've ever written. This began as an assignment and became a coping mechanism with a serious loss. I did, however, learn an important lesson: loss can be beautiful... I was very particular and purposeful with this poem, so there is a lot of symbolism. Interpret it as you please.

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