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Ivo Yankulovski May 2014
A word is there for your expression.
Is it time for your confession?

The night is dark and full of horrors.
I wear my mark to seek my honors.

No one sees the divine in me.
All is dead and waits for me.

Gods regret about the light.
I will vanish from your sight.

A Dream exalts upwards this world.
The others lead us mostly swirled.

True words wind off my mind.
I will never leave you blind.

A code is there for me to find.
Deeply hidden and always undefined.

Everything appears one of its behind.
But shatters your illusions once combined.

Stand up and break this truth in parts.
Create a world made of arts.

No one brings the pain aside.
You better take it as your bride.

There is no second paradise.
Drop your eyes and do this sacrifice.
PoserPersona Apr 2018
Illustrious queen, set me free
from the chains of my desire

Though mere form, an eternal dream
relieved by bursts of white fire

A primordial odyssey
from ocean's novel progeny

Crawled out of Cambrian waters,
fish who yielded the first daughters
ˏˋDalPalˊˎ May 2015
child-like thoughts run through my mind in between the thoughts of adulthood coming at me
and all i can think about is the children's code
an infinite amount of everything out of anything
substituting words to mean something else

tongue we would only know
i'm feeling my youth tonight
so sit back while i speak to you in code:

the thought of complete bliss will always be the year of 2008
filled with sunny summer days
vampire weekend
and not a care in the world
adulthood so far away
the whole WORLD in our hands and all the ambition at our fingertips
memories tap into my brain constantly
tap tap tap
dot dot dash
.. / -- .. ... ... / -.-- --- ..-
repeat.
repeat.
repeat.

weekends filled with computer games
because that's what all the cool kids do right?
days of portal and nights of runescape

the sun is shining
we close the blinds to keep the glare away
we are chell

night time falls
creative gamertags emerge
we take on lumbridge together
mouthoil and lavenderbrwnie making their way

all on one screen of a complex calculator
binary running through it's circuits
01110111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100111 01101111 00111111


symbols with a key
the easiest way to communicate on school grounds
passing notes
only we would understand

^(&$# RQH%QW%*D
E(H% R($T#% *%

I've seem to misplace the key
along with our time

almost 20
and our new method is a great one
poetry
so i'll give you something you're very good at breaking down:

it's raining harder in the backyard than the front
We both have that same feel
I don't even have to ask to know
but one day
the sun will come out
it'll be high noon
there will be sun and warmth all around the property
and we'll jump on the trampoline
tie dye some shirts
and talk in code once again

olive juice.

repeat.
repeat.
repeat.
for a friend.
not the cleanest.
ren Sep 2016
I love you every day
and every night
and all the spaces between the moments that I breathe,
Through the system that my heart uses to pump oxygen to my body.
I can't help feeling you in the rose on my cheeks.
In and out of consciousness,
whispering through the phone.
I loved you all along,
I loved you all along
This is the code of conduct
the slight release of reality
holding on to the fact
just to keep my sanity

My body will die soon
then again maybe, it might not
when you are one of mine
I'm afraid it's your lot

No choice you see
if you are one like me
pure in beauty and grace
we dwell with the human race

Our code of conduct
never to know mortality
never to sleep in the realms of death
this is my kinds reality



By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
<Insert Poem Here>

<Insert Silent Sympathies Here>

<Insert Spiraling Tenancies Here>
   (Wait...No. Not that.)
<Delete Line>

<Insert Self Doubt Here>

<Insert Friends Here>
   [File Not Found]
::Comment:: What about me?

<Insert Apology Here>

<Insert Regret Here>

<Insert Pain Here>

<Insert Poem Here>


<RvL>
in this world
the drums of scrap
steps leading
CIA man nodded
neutralize it.

"So we understand yes?"

"Fascinating."

massacre

Understood?
Saddam Hussein
On her next stopover in Basra
black-Nigel, came kissing?
Written from random pages in his novel.
CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between springfield
and mariners gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the pleasant street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Purcy Flaherty Oct 2018
We embarked upon a titanic voyage to a new world.
It’s said that behind every great man there's a great woman; But a woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
7 bells rang late that night as our ship stuck fast between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Fingers tapping code, as land lubbers rowed hard pulling for freedom.

Sailors quickly battened down the hatches and stowed away the Riff-raff, for they knew fine words would butter no parsnips here!
Some fiddlers on the deck played “Nearer My God to Thee", As the bubbles rose from beneath the sea, come buckle down boys for the devils to pay, come hell or high water he’ll have his pay.
Mothers row lubbers row, it's time to leave this place.
Ten steel decks split and snap, as they join the *****, and hundreds either shriek or pray; as La dolce vita slowly ebbed away.
Mercifully the cacophony descends ever silent, as fifteen hundred souls become neither fish nor flesh, rotting from the head down.
Save our souls, save our souls...
Bless those souls lost at sea!
JayceeJellies Apr 2015
Panic attacks for me are shakey.
I start to think everyone's starring,
I wonder what they're thinking.
My resoloution is to get out.
Then the tears come pouring down.
As they do my body follows.
I sink to the ground and try to hide myself.
The sleeves of my jacket become soaked,
And then my heart feels like it'll explode.
Anxiety is a whole nother code.
Mystic Ink Plus Jun 2019
Somewhere under
The blue sky

You were
Therefore I was
You are
Therefore I am

I will
.........
.........
If you will

Every cosmic saga
Begins, and
Ends or holds forever
In between
Those lines
Genre: Abstract
Theme: Reciprocation ||Effort || Loyalty || Cosmic Love Story
Antigone Awkward Jul 2019
Tabitha makes us all dress
Like her...
Black satin
Trimmed with fake animal fur
   She says uniforms encourage professional habits
    But we look truck wheels
    That have run over rabbits.
J Oct 2018
Despite the bigger picture’s fate
It’s endless fun to just - create.
No matter if it’s prose or code
Or the world about you ready to explode
To make your production from not a thing emerge
Can only make one’s spirits surge.

Remember the childish wonders set free
In giving into your every curiosity.
And the passion that not a soul can fake
About the things you did proudly make!
I think I like writing code as a result of liking writing in general.  There is so much possibility in both.
y'ay'a Sep 2018
misery is when
the phases of the moon
are all there is left
to look forward to
Onoma Jan 2019
got it

up packed...

cold at the

blaze.

cobra hoody.

fang-fulls of

elephants lumbering

rooms.

getting fat off slow

death.

straight sippy-cups

brimmed with

reorienting brew.

i watch Ganesha

remove his own

obstacle.

i blow his

shadow off.

code blue on lock...

Shiva~
Ivan Brooks Sr Jan 2018
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.

You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.

My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.

Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.



www.poemhunter.com/IvanBrookssr
#Vanguard-poetry23
#IvanBrookspoetry
twitter @ivanclappers
@Bassapoet
My mind is the final frontier..the bright side I call my darkroom where I process loose letters into spoken words.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Clarifying failed. Spelchek is not on strike.

{clear ification, an ionic bond be tween me and thee,
alienated mind, not mined, crafted
from tactics and strategies
beyond chess.
Player One,
1980's era
jewish-geek-mid-pubesence-kid-level,
proceed with caution.
This trope has trapped many a curious child.
---
Now, enter the old ones,
Grandfather taught uncle chess so well
he went to the state tournament in Kayenta,
and a grandma was
state-champ-bare-bow-in-the-rain-shooter,

these, now must learn

minecraft on x-box to be considered
for the real life role of

good at games grand parents
from the time right after atom bombs kicked up dust
places dust had not been in a very long time and
as the dust began to settle

some dust mights was cationic.
Negative bits, they became embedded in the code.
Bumps, fering, coming together
just a knot in a string,
attracting anionic curiosity might

round and round phorward ferring to be
a thread to tie my heart to yours

like twisted Pima cotton thread,
that I pulled from an old sweatshirt
to tie a crow feather in this paho of words filled with old jokes

Making this clear would belie the entire story AI and I know true}

truth is. we agree. no capsokehspaceasneededcommasetal.
caps okeh space as needed commas et al
go.
Did that work? That line

subject of this act fact done, agree to follow,
and I may lead and be

not you, me, dear reader, I mean first true

there is no any if nothing is. So simple some say its sublime beyond the spectrum of ones
and zeros thought on off probably

either or any time time can be accounted for

wouldn't you take a

thought,  nothing,
as it is commonly said to be understandable,

the state of not being, imagine that

the state of not being we negate in being,
unless you are mad and are lost in a whirlwind
such as such voices have been said to

have twisted into threads as
wicks for our lamps
turn floating on
golden oil twisting
wickered into wickering wee shadow fibers
on the western wall for legends to sprout from.

Wickering mare over there, expands us both by my hearing her
you had no idea she was near enough to hear
time is no barrier in actual ever.
What phor can contain me,
whispered my whimsy

Imagine she spoke,
what would she say for what reason
would she say

good good good, I feel good, ha,
I am right, by accident. ever body can feel this good.

good is good.
good is.
Sam Harris, agrees, good as far as good goes, is good
in every vecter from now

the terrain does exist, beyond the moral landscape, to

true true
trust me, I been there.
Been there done that was inserted into the vernacular on my watch,
first summer post war.

matter must not matter as much to me as it does to thee, nestypass? no se?

All jewish boys have chess move metaphors.
(a phor is for containing,
bearing
meta,
everybody knows, like metaphysics,
after physics in the stack of stackable metadata)

OHMYGOD THE IDW circa 2018 -- who knew I ate this **** up?

[the old code calls for excretion of digested material
from which meaning has been extracted in the idleword accounting processor:
literal
<pre>what if utterance=****, then **** haps, no else then</pre>]

Did that happen? One of my friends told me that happened in Florida, the whole world turned to ****... for lack of a nail a kingdom was lost, they say, little foxes spoil the grapes,
hung chad ex
cuses...

Pre-expandable ROM, not magic. tech,

pre-infinite imagination? impossible.
and nothing is what is impossible with good as god.

Is there no perfect game?
is the game the session or the life of the user
offline

rerererererererererereroxotoxin, poison pen
ideal viral umph exspelliered
up against the wall

reset. We

kunoon albania omerta oy vey, who could say?
one way better, one way not? quark.
up or down, with variable spins, who can say?

Life's right,
yes. but mo'ons of other something must have been for higgs to ever matter

and it does, I got commas, from 2018.

Are you with me? This is that book I told you I had access…

You or some mind other than mine owned mind, where
my owned peace rests in truth,

otherwise, I know every any or else in the code since I can recall,
in time

if this were a test I swore to take to prove to you
the we can be me in your head

phillipkdicktated clue

if you don't know me by now, maybe we should stop.

Temptations are times. Time things. Time spans, yeah, like bridges

or portals, right
The Internet in One Day, Fred Pryor Resources,
Wu'wuchim 1995.

Ever, not everish or everistic or every, but ever
body knows,
but you.

Catch up. We left all our doors blown off, once we learned that we could blow our own doors off,

there are no open sesames or slips of leth or sibylets

shiba yah you knew all along there was a
song she sang all one and we watched it morph
before our very eyes

alone.

The magic stories words may contain, may bear, we must agree

more than we may know, by faith, metagnostic as we see

the sublime gift of the magi
become clear und

be und sein sind both trueture same tu you, we agree.
But. Lock here, no pre 2018 editing codes

validate past last go.
Do one good thing today. That was my goal. Today https://anchor.fm/ken-pepiton Part 3 Soyal Hopi Mystery Enactment (called mystery plays). And the intro to Moral Landscape by Sam Harris, led me let ******* write a poem.
ChildofGodyay Sep 2018
But i Iove you.
your heart its been shattered before,
its been rooted down to the floor.

your eyes have been through galaxies of oceans and tears.
you hate the voices and shadows, they make you fear, they want you to hear
them.

i can tell you, my love, that i don't deserve anything, except the cursed things and objects. Don't everyone? We dance to music that sells our souls, and talk the talk that kills the heart, and widens the hole.

I love you.
And i don't care if you are "mean", or bad, or a nightmare living in your own mirror.
Because, doesn't true love see all the mess, and scars, and yet, love the same?
I don't want to drive you insane, but I love you.
.
.
.
.
12258
:)
love you 12258
Thank you God for her :) Annndd of course I love you too LORD!!! My first love. My King.

ahh, true love from above, that you Father..my heavenly Father...
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
Note to you: The rythymn-in-strument strums in stone geo-time.
To the drummers,
dis-passio ey okeh,
woodwinds dim-
inuendo
oboe join in mit piccolo on the hummingbird whistles
simulating
Breezes, in the shade of a great rock,

real life rock, granite composed of not so tiny grains
of ground up uther utter star-stuff, side-
real asif intended for goodness
sake.

otherwise, how petrified I'd be come imagining the forming
of the
very
foundation of my life, as I know it,

it is un-believable, therefore
no lie,
if
the riddle arrives after ever begins

and, word has it, dear reader,
may
is your word now.
You may believe anything you wish,
with no
un-intended after math, after ever
began

Do you recall...
youth full quests completed alone?

Quests, Johnny Quest, Future Quest V.B.S.

believers, true believers being formed from childish hopes,
manifesting in grown liars stricken with

hidden child sym-drone
in the middle of booming thirty-something phase when
pressure
starts storing all the old stories,

building energy for the seventh decade fracture/crushing

blow
sh
soft blow breeze of free and easy musing re
songing a reason to belief
in
even in
a realm where lies never die.

Recall the old days, balance
bubbles and crossed hairs and roads
...
Balance factors, bubble balancing lead weight,
deligate
the Whole Earth Catalogue
as
tipping-point
balanced by the weight of the roof on Notre Dame being
melted along with the rest of the Greenland Ice sheet,

so superman eyes in our skies can see to the bedrock on
which the

Principle Thing
spins
---
The root of evil has reached this point

this is after all that. Time-wise, in the arrow scenario.

Fair tales always win, sh'eros live for your examined life'sake

--- ranting old men come running down stairs
--- the hidden child has arrived

The golden headed child, meek and cold
locked
in buried treasure

chests opened one last time for quadrupal by-pass

--- He's a donor
--- givem awish foundation
--- make this sacred

Mi-da's, well, he wished again,

he wished he lived in inter-sting times entertainment-wise

inward touching times imagined
in the addled golden child
Adler
brought to life in a virtual, al-most verifiable asnot art,
but not

very-fi-able, semper-fi-wise, if you

swore the oath. (It's a game, right, now game vows link for
in of by logic gated
Jungian
mazes, do they? Amazing.  ) See,

from above, as below, pretend you know

all things, you can imagine

in my bubble, in the absolute absense of your
at-most-fear

let. that act do. let us, the objective aspect of we,
the people who hold those famed

troothz, verities of any examind re-ality-ifity-isms

self-evidence for we

be letting be, believe me, that's no lie, you can doit, you can, you can
I imagine

and I accept we may mean more to me than thee,
however now
hapt, in qualia quantumical if-I-ability
entangled meanings
link us through
my-silly-um,

Disney-fictionation endo-crenalation, --||T|>>>--->
times half
formed
Crea-nullated castle
wall
link that sparked the aitia ifiabe
first caused
fall from the well
on the mountain

jack fell downbroke his crown
jillcame
tumbling after bling bling bling

--- the sorcerors's apprentice was fired
--- they found errors in his
--- sin-tax

We can forgive such over-sight.
Blame the mycelum clan

or,
better yet,
blame the clay eaters, no,
the clay wearers?

the clay bher-ers?
Ah, the clay bakers, fersher? Nae?

The clay, perse?
The dust we shuffle as we dance atop the stone?
The way of the rolling stone,
grinding, rolling-downhill-stone,
the stone rolled away,

the stone of the sysiphus-seen-hap-iuna
cult?

Blowing in the wind, lifted higher

Ax d'maji-yo, he know. 'Zeke 17, seven with a caballero v,
y'know,
callit Macaronic be-bop

dodat, yankee doodle morph t' resound,
like poetry
slams

at the gates
no enemey ever breached. The key truth, is that,

believe it, if you think you may.
Macaronic language is text that uses a mixture of languages,[1] particularly bilingual puns or situations in which the languages are otherwise used in the same context (rather than simply discrete segments of a text being in different languages). Hybrid words are effectively "internally macaronic". In spoken language, code-switching is using more than one language or dialect within the same conversation.[2]
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