"colluded" poems
The glass of wine spins on sins
Encircling the royal roulette
All rotating on a hamster wheel
Pinned on canvas and illusional walls
So tiny in errors and unbalanced books
Unaccounted annotated distributions
Twisting hands on colluded coils
Deeper projections from the heart
An eruption of the social notions
Extracted on the paradise of life
For no truth echoes authenticity
Eccentrically finding a lived reality
Plato symposiums and simulacrums
Pavlov trails of social conditioning
Sampled in tented objectifications
Functioning within the invisible rules
We sniffle as we expose the false actuality
Reactive explosions from robust heat
Unloaded rods dancing under the moon
In our tenderness rejecting the paradigm
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:03 PM UTC
Ink and rabies flows in our veins. Copper cogs hold our eyes into place, and we can see the undulating liquors flowing like waters in a transparent waterbed, rolling back and forth with gravity.
Ink and rabies flows in our veins. They came with togetherness, in the same pen, passed along, gently, from one hand to another, a friendly enough gesture, cultured, combined, colluded into a single consciousness of tactful inks together, tactful links together, a single solvent.
They were once separate towns...separate people...until Radii Ink and Yuli Rab were together...
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
The strapping young boys
Will play with their toys
And cause harm to er'one around.
They'll make lots of noise,
Colluded with poise,
Among them not a soul to be found.
It wasn't too long
Before they were turned on
To firm over in Illinois,
Where collusion has proven
A blooming conclusion
For all whom they choose to employ.
"Is this an illusion?"
Said one in confusion.
"I'm successful and happy and paid.
"I'm a millionaire
With brilliant hair,
And a beautiful dame of a maid!"
"Pardon my intrusion,
You've chosen profusion
O'er doing the world some good.
"Prepare for seclusion-
A lonely conclusion
Is knocking beneath your hood."
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
The dough is molten at oven spring,
like a prayer to the historicity of things ..
Have we not imagined yesterdays
in the ritual of bread ? While our pasts
lay embezzled, on the tongues of men, the
sentiment of centuries colluded in germ,
echoing through heirloom remembrances
those floury philosophies of change.
While I stretch dough to gaze past
a windowpane, as far back as Khorasan ..
they were other names then, another
elasticity in time. Faith is a memory
of settled people in lands of milk and
honey, where every drought, every flood
spawns a new religion .. and the wheat,
always begs the same old question:
Are we there yet, in the fertile crescent
of opportunity ? The grains haven't changed
in their stolid countenance - long, subtle,
germy, cosseted. In the granaries of kings ..
they are willed by royal decree, never to die
in an eternal future and like humankind,
who score bread in the cuneiform of hearts,
grain is always thirsting to seed the land.
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 10:49 AM UTC
I don’t encourage the courage it takes to blow up a building
Or respect those who expect blind obedience
The factories that distill human suffering for profit
The gasses and poisons that are toxic
The philosophies and doctrines that make humans compliant
To higher authorities without reason and logic
People becoming socially caustic
When compassion is traded for competition
And the fit don’t survive cause the trick is
This sickness is a symptom of human corruption
Greed infecting and spreading hatred and resentment
Neighbors aren't neighbors but gladiators in the pursuit of success
Better cars, better houses, better jobs, better spouses
Denied contentment’s peaceful breath
Tricked into thinking we get more than this width and breadth
So it’s okay to play at barbarity to dress up the bombs with flags and prosperity
And our masters have the right to decide who we should and should not fight
After all even though we were deluded we colluded with our own oppressors
While they trade secrets with our supposed enemies
Sell weapons to allies turn allies to adversaries
And even though we think we chose this
We the people did not accept this sort of justices
We did not vote on this democracy, we the ill-informed masses
Illiterate in the true art of classes and rich distinctions
Of those who seek their own advancement not our improvement
Corporate sociopath with little empathy for the welfare of others
Smother our sister and brothers under the cover of complacency
And what really bothers me is that I am just as much to blame
I coat our pain in pretty words thinking pettily that I am helping
But in the end I am only helping myself feel better for doing **** near nothing
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
Brain was a happy place where
all the memories lived together.
There were occasions of mistrust
but it seemed like a good place to live.
Like every society, there were
some unsocial elements in Brain too.
But the good memories could
keep them in control easily.
But something changed in Brain.
Negative thoughts came in large numbers.
They were heavily armed and
were well trained for combat.
The good memories, the core
defence of Brain, were helpless.
They lacked the necessary skills
and the “good will” wasn’t enough.
All the memories were terrified.
To make matters worse, the bad memories
colluded with the negative thoughts.
They leaked vital intel about the defence.
Once the good memories surrendered,
all hell broke in Brain.
The negative thoughts became unstoppable.
They tortured the memories to death.
In this time of terror,
the memories needed a leader.
Someone, they could look up to.
Hope came to their rescue.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 7:04 AM UTC
The Queen of Qanant
Was a right royal ****
A ***** of the first water.
And almost as bad
Was the offspring she had,
Her high-class badass daughter.
She looked at folks funny
If they didn’t have money
To her it was all about gifts.
The Queen didn’t share
That her kid pulled her hair
Her stinginess created a rift.
The Queen of Qanant
Had all she could want
Spangles and baubles galore.
She had so much junk
She needed four hunks
To carry it all through the door.
Her land was in a pickle
No downward dollar trickle
With which the poor could pay rent.
She ignored all petitions
To improve the conditions
Thus a civil rebellion could foment.
Her people could starve,
No roast beast to carve;
To her the whole issue was closed.
So her daughter colluded
And the story concluded
When Mommy the Queen was deposed.
So, that’s what’s in store
When you ***** with the poor
And ignore their righteous complaining.
That’s the way things are
You get only so far
To **** on them and tell them it’s raining.
The daughter was no better
She matched mom to the letter
And the whole story started again.
But that’s what people earn
When they never quite learn;
They end up back where they’ve been.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:44 PM UTC
If we feel guilty
For privileges we have in our life
We all must become victims
Doomed to be resentful
Guilt breeds resentment
Fear will do the same
If we all have to make our lives worse
Exaggerating our own pain
When privilege is synonymous with race
We will always have opposing sides
The media creates this hate
Not the people
They want you to be scared
They want war
It keeps us distracted
From the socioeconomic games
The wealthy need chaos
To keep us fighting each other
Instead of creating actual change
All your Governments colluded
They want it this way
We are all divided
Causing each other pain
I know there needs to be accountability
But there must be a better way
When we are no longer angry at each other
Humanity has found it's way
Jan 5, 2022
Jan 5, 2022 at 4:59 AM UTC
Ive had my fill
Of every ill
That the world
Keeps trying ...to instill
I've had my fill
I've had...I've had...I've had
I've had my fill
Keep telling me lies
Even though ...
You realize
That you no longer
Even have to try and hide
Them!
Behind .......a thin disquise
I think that means
That the primed machines
Are ready to go.....
.....so....
They don't care if we know
Which way the future leans
I do believe
That there are those
Who do conceive
Of just ...
..one more heave
And that will take it
Take it all the way
All the way down
To the ground !
Where others wait -
With a rope
To quickly quash...every hope
And celebrate
Once they have it bound
And all tied down
Watch and learn
From those who spurn
All the things that we hold dear
As they tell us
whats what
Then turn a deaf ear
And it's then
as they twist and bend
And rend the truth
By attitudes and platitudes
They separate us ...Into classes
All the while
They clinch their teeth
To hide the smile
Apprehension encouraged
By descending deeper
and deeper
Into dissention
Convoluted amplituded
Learned from those
With whom ...
...they colluded
Those enemies of the free
But still...you may be
One of those who still denies
What is RIGHT ...
.....In front
Of your eyes
Just so you know
When that sun has set
Don't waste time waiting
For the light of dawn
If you bought the darkness
Then thats the ...
...the future you will get
I've had my fill....of every ill
That the world keeps trying ...
....to instill !
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 9:59 PM UTC
They shone in the obscurity
of every sunset.
Eyes absorbed every teardrop
that welled in there vacant
tombstone eyes.
But they were more than
obscuration,
within the stages of radiant demise.
They collected the bounty of those that
versed from the sacred paths of hues.
There were those that had feel between
optic blades and the indistinct gleams
that were contentious wounds that were
underhanded shades.
The tinges, neither pure of light.
And those that feel in the eclipse of darkness.
But it was a secret conclave of those
who were fractured between both.
But within the collective of shade
and illumination.
Where those that versed the combination
as a sacrilege to the foundations
of eternities motion.
Everyone but a few colluded to constant versions,
qualified hues had to change,
or the universe would grow stagnant.
And so began the feud between the shades
of perpetual opacity.
As the evanescence shimmers
where all where falling
like dead stars
cleaving within the benighted landscape.
We all glared like life was burying its self.
But they walked between us,
shimmers of what was wanted.
And the reputations of our reflections.
Everything must evolve, even the reflections
that fall between the cracks of life's obscurities.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 5:31 PM UTC
I don't know,
Am I up to 52 of my poems this go round?
I've been to a school of hard knocks-
I've shaken hands
With the devil,
You know.
Or God, was it?
I have colluded
With Russia
I've told Putin that he is a piece of ****
Royal,
And he went along with it.
Will that be my non crime,
Or my sentence
Along with other criminals.
Every sentence
Must have a period.
I didn't make the rules up,
Dude,
Man, how does this hang
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 3:17 AM UTC
Toblin's carriage came to a halt.
As Princess Andulan the Silenced approached.
Holding a withered apple in one claw.
She sent her servants scattering with a violent gesture.
Moving with her dress held above the muddy path ahead.
She shed no tears for the dead.
Nor for Sharin's lost children,
Instead it was shown.
She had wed herself eternal.
To the countenance of one whose song has been silenced.
Death denied and sealed away,
Meant she hadn't aged a day,
Since her thirteenth birthday.
Spent with her loving father,
Jealous sisters, twins linked by envy,
They whispered foolishly from their bedcovers,
Colluded with one another to diminish her,
Because she couldn't wring their necks,
It went on unabated.
Spoiled by treasures of war,
Entitled by conquest and power,
She occupied herself and others plenty,
With her every need and whim.
Rob of years sorely removed,
From either crown or privilege,
Shied away from politics, a boring brother.
Non-combative and defensive.
Amidst royal battlefields,
Internal conflicts far removed from,
Outward appearances of serene stability,
To reassure the coddled and subjugated masses,
Familial affection served to maintain those welts of submission,
Bitten into common, gamey flesh once wild and unsophisticated.
We gave them purpose where none existed, put value in place.
Of lives spent surviving.
Still he was upbeat and eager to practice,
With a violin seemingly attached to his person,
Like an inseparable portion of his soul or,
Vital *****
His hands were crafted to bring music to voids,
Unseen yet made felt by all,
Once her melodies were given voice once more,
Sharin's tears melted our hearts,
Dissolved our rage, hatred, resentments,
Causing evaporation to occur,
Ousting us from internecine nonsense,
Rob took from us that goblet of poison,
Seldom parted from by choice.
He knew and accepted his call.
Retreating to it whenever royal squabbles,
Tried to drown out his song.
Rob out-shined us all.
Remember you I shall, my dear Rob...
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
uncertainty and overthinking
are probably a disastrous pair.
made worse by
observant eyes
a restless mind
and a conflicted heart
these
have colluded
to cause much pain.
so much pain.
so much.
but the face is the ultimate liar
the joker
the greatest concealer of emotion
so trudging on
through the pain
without anyone else knowing
is the way to go.
solitude
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
Teach me to be human
to shake and take stakes
to be vulnerable and regenerative
to stay calm as the sun sets
Is human living just vanity?
a trespass of mindless thoughts
colluded in a pathway of the burnt
enlivened by the patterns of the world
Bring me to a beautiful shore
where I boil before the simmer
crawling to the rise of existence
hurt and disapproved by meaning
Teach me to be human
as the soul unveils the way
responding to a youthful mind
where right and wrong is an illusion
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 6:19 AM UTC
I miss your smile,
your laughter,
the chuckle you had,
the way your whole body
colluded with the laugh.
I miss your step,
the way you walked,
the soft spoken talk,
the humour, the dry jokes,
that I miss deeply,
the memory chokes.
I miss your look,
that gaze,
the big eyed stare,
that look
that seemed to say:
I care.
I miss you
for not being here,
miss your presence
in a room,
the chair vacant
where you once sat,
the photographs of you
looking back,
saying nothing,
looking far away,
nothing more to say.
I miss the whole of you,
not just bits and pieces,
not just this or that,
not just your tee shirts
or black hat.
I miss you
and wait for answers
that may never come,
never find the real reason why
someone ****** up
or why you had to die.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 7:14 AM UTC
One wide split right through the middle
Frightening fighting while I stay hidden
A war between reality and feelings
The path my feelings follow aren't always appealing.
I've invested my energies in endeavours proven destructive
Fed the essence of my aura into a river that's been occluded
All the sentiment sediment with the pressure becomes eruptive
Seems like the fallacy inside me had always been corrupted.
Imagination and my devastation have I always been deluded
Dichotomy so clear yet the opposing parts keep feuding
They create a perfect storm as if these factors colluded
Adding to the mounting anxiety making matters more confusing.
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
Born into
a dying moment
dry breathing
and distant sounds
the Echoplex
of stacatto reverberations
as Causeless care
is Shuffled lightly
each dealt
a sovereign play
of words - deeds
becoming seeds
planted
below
the Flatline screen
the rooted vein
of blood -fed
abberations
averted versions
by abbrogated
participation
in colluded
Instituted falsification
declarations
leaving each one
only the thinnest
of self- satisfying sanctuary
within
those deepest recesses
of absolution
that place
that never sees no sun
rooted deep
entangled
by rote remote repetition until received - until believed there was nothing... Nothing nothing ... nothing we could have done.
Mar 13, 2021
Mar 13, 2021 at 12:29 PM UTC
A forced, facsimiled smile
crept upon my weary face
to help construct the wall between us
although its design is in poor taste.
It’s as if mankind colluded
albeit leaving out few and far between
to create a solipsistic kingdom ruled by masks
while truth lay dormant in the unseen.
Should I shatter the aporia
That occludes our interaction
Or propitiate the insipid bond we share
to neither of our satisfaction?
**** I need some coffee.
- - - —— - - - —— - - -
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 2:04 AM UTC