"colluding" poems
Kevan Fuchs died today in his sleep
In a similar way as his father of one
And actually, also my father did too
Of those bitter, big cancer scourges
Which always come in unexpected
In this short enough life, a bit early
I've known him ever since first, when
We were knee high to Dad's shotgun
Throughout our small neighborhood
We would all roam to see and look
For ***** toads and such other fun
Without any known end in our sights
We often, came all together, at once
In his parent's, little Clovis back yard
In the under ground, in our deep dug
Wild little clubhouse of our new pride
Approved by our jealous Dad's stare
Made all by ourselves, with great care
Eight by eight, with three feet of deep
Shagged carpet floors, walls around
And places to hide stuff with those
**** magazines we wished to remain
Unseen by our parents, although they
Surely lived through similar wild times
Black lights , fluorescent mod posters
Fans to cool, while there in the deep
Kept the place comfy, from several
Hot summers in New Mexico's heat
Staying nights over, in conspiracy we
Came colluding, while hoping no fame
This place was our place, of known
Refuge from all of the big crazy, with
Frightening world still yet to come
Giving us our youngest freedoms
And also so much being in trouble
As kinda neighborhood hoodlums
Far up his Dad's, tall, two-way radio tower
One of us in care would climb
With binoculars to see the dark night
With our pair of walkie talkies held
Warn the others, carousing around
Of any plight, in appearing headlights
Kevan's brother, still alive, Keith
My other brother by another, Buddy
Also at first, a weird guy, named Chris
One other member, as second cousin
Who actually, was my very first kiss
When it was hard to aim, lips to miss
All bound as one, by made up signs
And part of something called PSO
Which, if you don't know well, what it
Truly means, then you were definitely
Not a part of the so very high bliss
Which we suffered through so often
Kevan's true nature is clearly proven
Finally, most completely, at his end
In the nature of his wonderful loving
All his family, who also so loved him
And all those other parties to trouble
Who also so loved, really all of him
© 2017 Jim Davis
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
Booming Rhetorics (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
==Booming Rhetorics ==
by
Checkered Darks
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Copy the link below to your browser)
https://soundcloud.com/user-367453778/boomingrhetorics
Human nature itself is a smash of contractual responsibility. A splash of rights afloat as we sink in our psychological rooted moral panics. All I see is a cascading titanic of ventures our mislaid adventures one after another. The criss cross of chains, we bonded in tax measures, reserve treasures...... It's not my leisure I beg you don't make your pleasure.
I sink in pressure, resolving Karl Mark ideology of conflicted power. Is it our born nature or nurture to live in a world of social polarisation. A pole to pole, a tug of war. Each owning and holding a rope.Is it our task to cage in boxes, fencing notions of inequalities within our society. Is it our right this notion Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.
Help me out as as I wade in the swampy lowland. Treading through and through, head afloat, the submerging walk me to the shores..... Help me find my way through this dark tunnel. Help me see the light, let the sun ray penetrate my blight.
In our dichotomy of democracy we have made it right. A rolling ball of ........
1. Stock them high sell them cheap is the order of the day.
2. Social warehousing of merging demand and supply chain.
3. A disintegration of socialist entrepreneurship.
4. Re-distribution of Export Production Zones in marginalised countries.
5. A surge of capitalism on this patch we call the universe.
6.Conortions of monopoly colluding sustainability.
I pass this ball to you. As the industrial revolution fades and debates of "STEEL" revolves.
My Speech is a mere consideration, our contradiction. The contractual complications that we have grounded and granted ourselves as humanity. My voice is an exchange, my gift, a cloud of thoughts, an arousing hope our haunting costs.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC
Your pride
comes from
your nationalism,
your patriotism,
rage and dissatisfaction.
You pass each moment
stewing, colluding
with each new oppressor
in the name of solidarity
Spewing slogans and
other simple statements
oaths and weak ideas
you build a fascist nation
and wonder how you ever got here.
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
It is not some dusty frame,
hanging rusty nails;
chaotic mess.
No es amor solo amar, to you,
just some language you,
can't comprehend.
Distraught, despaired, disheveled,
a dystopian novel notion,
romanticized.
There's no need;
you don't need to patronize.
Cold hand upon cold hand;
lifeless smiles colluding.
And as if you were a Monet sunrise,
my impression of you is that of drunken brush strokes,
dull blues,
and angry orange hues,
Left on display within a rotting, wooden frame.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
The sound of silence.
Peace after violence.
A mother’s browbeaten servitude.
A child’s coerced gratitude.
The world’s most prosperous nations.
Architects of the most dangerous machinations.
Economies like never before;
A life that still leaves you wanting more.
The embezzlement of public finances.
The settlement of a case’s nuances.
Two colluding entities declaring each other free of ******
With ease, starving YOUR wallet until YOU are down on your knees.
The oath: ‘to protect and serve.’
The reality? ‘To suspect and unnerve.’
A cartel that’s in charge of the guns;
Like leaving a brothel in the hands of Huns.
The lie of representation in government.
The election, expectation of endowment.
Spending your life washing your master’s feet,
Then somehow being surprised by their trickery and deceit.
The mistake of prioritising convenience.
The finalising of our own, eventual obsolescence.
We are a species that will die
Clueless of our role in it, desperately asking ‘why?’
When it’s way too late.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
A dinosaur colluding with the stars
to bring about his own extinction
In the cloud forest worlds of our ancient oxygen pasts
Meteoroid majorette's & atomic attractors
On bended knee praying:
"Oh Heavens, please,
Oh Cosmos,
Please,
Take Us home to Him."
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
I'm writing a story
It's like a Disney flick
With a princess and all
The princess is beautiful
& kind
And sings
But
She finds an ancient gem
Full of power and wealth
It acts on her dreams
Colluding with reality
Trick-or-treat
Later
She finds herself in peril
she's stalked
By 1 million mirrors
Parroting her every move
Lurking around every corner
They catch-up with the princess
Ghastly clouded mirrors
Hovering + being
There.
Stalked by 1 million mirrors
Until they are
Upon her
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
don’t tell
anyone
this letter to the world, came
from me
I don’t want the other seven billion
stone walkers to know
I am mad
about being born
though it seems as good
a reason as any,
to be mad
I don’t want them to hear my screams
echoing off the walls of their caves
I don’t want them to see the blood
dripping from the Calvary Cross
from the nails they helped forge
I don’t want them to see the bloated bodies
in the trenches they helped to dig
I don’t want them to smell the scorched flesh
from the flash of Fat Man
or witness the mangled limbs of the children
of the drone drops
for who would want word
of these sights and sounds
with their morning coffee
who would want such
coughing colluding calamitous colors
to collide with their vision
of hammocks on sleepy summer lawns
or silent sifting snow on Christmas Eve
don’t tell any one of them
this is my letter to the world
for I would not want them
to stone me for my sins
or for the good news
I had to report
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
reasons, i find them faltering
with their own ego,
some self destructive arguments
and many left aside repercussions
how would we survive,
their trifling stages and colluding rage?
and would the Content be able to contain
them under the shaky sky of our dispositions
how would things resolve themselves
how would everything that's out of order
restore itself precisely to where it belongs
for the typhoon knows only the change
for all the things that matter,
would prayers, good wishes, and our will
anymore matter to the effect of anything?
they too stagger sideways, here come reasons.
Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
Let’s play Name That Goon.
How many can you get right?
Someone you see every day
In the news, in plain sight.
The first one looks very much
Like a troll doll but larger.
He brags about how much
Money he has in his larder.
But, his blather does not
Include many discernable facts.
He’s about half of the man
He stands on stage and acts.
The second one is a talker
In a very vaunted arena.
He seems as incapable of truth
As a citizen named Fiorina.
He’s been faking his credentials
And his skin has darkened.
He’s orange, so one wonders
If the old KKK has harkened.
The third one was a big cheese
And he was a big deal once
Until his mouth and behavior
Proved him to be a dunce.
But not before his crew
And his ineptitude managed
To leave the country *******
And semi-permanently damaged.
The fourth was the third’s pal
In all those dastardly deeds
That any tale well scripted
Or any tragedy needs.
He made a bundle for him
And all of his colluding pals.
Maybe he thought that might
Make him attractive to the gals.
The next one is the queen
Of the Washington crazies.
She might make a bigger fool
Of herself, but she’s too lazy
And as stupid as a box of lint.
She opens mouth and convinces.
Every time she speechifies
The entire country winces.
So, now we have done it
We have played Name That Goon.
If this glib poet doesn’t choke
We can have more real soon.
So, you all play nice and have fun
At your next political gathering.
And keep track of who is who
And what they are all blathering.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
gentrified entanglement
a week dismembered,
full of craven gullibility
bags of flesh mouthing
silent words
in the hollow earth
stained red with leaking passion.
as an oil spill tucked neatly
away in the purest parts of the sea,
swelling and gathering speed
to blacken the earth.
angels dance with a cadence of
indeterminate in origin,
lacking in self preservation
a hundred thousand pretty words
wrought of iron,
worn down by the ebb of time,
which drives all
towards infinity.
there are things in this world
which we choose to believe
because the alternative
is all to terrible to abide.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 2:38 PM UTC
when I asked how long I would live
my father told me about you
to comfort to my six year old ears
he saw, perchance, I was no longer beguiled
by the ignorant innocent myth
of immortality, on the same night
he spoke of infinite electrons
spinning in a car dome light
strangely, I knew,
even when the car door closed
those energized specs would spin forever
and dance about on a minute stage
when Methuselah was nothing
but words on an ancient page
still I saw his long white beard
counted his earthly years,
and asked father
if my number would be as great,
perhaps colluding to avoid my fate,
as the oldest man who ever lived
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
Laying upon the dust laden wasteland
The last man on Earth reminisces.
Bygone days like that of yellow sand
Riding the stale wind, his bare skin kisses.
Throat yearns for rivers that used to flow
Carrying fish with its mighty currents.
Earth’s green lungs blackened like the crow
Feasting on cadavers raining in torrents.
Phantoms of loved ones sustain his breath,
If only he’d spent more time with them.
He worked to live and lived to work to death,
Unaware how worthless were his gems.
Pursuit of happiness was man’s downfall,
For they sought it neglecting the essential.
Polluting, colluding until nothing was all,
Extracting the entirety of Earth’s potential.
War, famine, pestilence, typical ending.
If only the warnings were heeded,
And appreciation for nature’s tending,
Then maybe we’d have proceeded.
You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
Now it is too late to right our wrongs.
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
I'm failing
And I'm doing it at twice the speed than I'm falling
It's daunting,
Can't shake this loser feeling
Always tied up in dealing
With a mind that reeling,
Emotions that are spiking,
A heart that's spilling,
A soul depleting
And thoughts sent spinning
It's not even something I'm hearing
At least not outside of this in house courtroom hearing
That's taking place every morning,
Going deep into the evening
No,
There's no co conspiring,
No colluding
Or hitman hiring
It's self inflicted self destruction,
Without instruction
And while it's death defying
It's still an emotional beating
To the point I begin wondering
Am I still a living,
Breathing,
Human being
Type thing?
A strange bit of questioning
©2024
Jun 27, 2024
Jun 27, 2024 at 12:49 PM UTC
Evil Drumpf ****** worse than Watergate
Orange Man bad— 'tis their hour to impeach!
Colluding, they rush to regurgitate
Nonsense from their last non-candidate's speech.
Accusations and trials. It's quite a show.
He's guilty, so guilty, of serious crime.
They're not sure of what, but he HAS to go.
(Their permanent peeve is our circus-time.)
Through dark lenses, opthalmologically:
They can hate on our optics; we won't mind
Our magic glasses allow us to see
With twenty-twenty vision . . . but they're still blind.
Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC
Are we lost to a land of too many tribes,
Too many choices, of too many scales,
Too many communities of which to
avail?
Could we be better off fractured and scattered
Left shattered like glass by the highway
A shimmering reminder to the wayward passerby,
All is not lost though we
Subside
Could that we merely be torn asunder,
Pulverized, then obliterated by ritual fire,
Then wrung from the colluding liquified minds
Crystaline,
Incandescent,
Molten
Purifide
To form as before but free from parameters previously applied,
Forgotten in the furnace of insanity and strife
Stiffled,
Tempered,
Emboldend,
Refined
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
down the ups of the very backs of streets
just skirting the very edges of napes
the cities slightly tickled little hairs rushing
up it's thighs, colluding thickly bushy
barely about it's "ooch!" it's "ow!"
it's youth rimmed slouching pocket
hollow fully bursting. empty so crowding
tightly packed cheeks, clumps of giddy
gurgling songs pumped lazy chords
they sickly punch the nooks and crannied
edges flourishing the rainbow bright
chatter of lungs that taste the air so
healthy and so long. "Tonight, as the day
goes 'Wee!' over the ******* wallop
we"ll higgle wiggle in it's corpse
our skulls and merry bones to
frothing jowls overwhelmed with boisterous
young hearts supping it's crudlicious
pillow, supple and rotting gums
the large lit teeth of whom bust
right to heaven while we fling about
their oblong towers our shales
of *** and magic;
May 24, 2011
May 24, 2011 at 11:37 AM UTC
Government regulators attempted to **** me
God's angels are the people that saved me
They created the problem buy giving the Dr the key
Escapades that spiralled like a birch tree
To suppress confessions and evidence
People were given unwanted medicine
Some ran but caught by the magnet resonance
Others 6 feet under, blessed by a church eminence
God help! Sadists and cannibals eat patients
Colluding in auditory nerves in acoustic vibrations
They are the nations NHS saviours
When people suffer they have secret celebrations
Looking for the innocent soul
Destroying with false reports and a troll
Exploiting every loophole
Services and public on a sly payroll
Pseudo science disease is a abomination
That of mental illness to the nation
That has brain washed the population
Truth will singe psychiatry to decimation
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 8:22 PM UTC
I was born a gentle soul
Reformed with an old jovial wisdom
Which was corrupted by the first attack
Stripped of my candor and left to meander
Until a visceral skin latched to my back
I watched my rivet dreams vicariously
All the while from side scenes
Spending time refining the premise
The fine hemmed edges
Were sharp yet crude
When tuned to this percentage
The very root of metamorphosis
Became an epitome of what I am
While walking a tight rope
Of Hope's chokehold
Invoking me to stand
Forcing me to look down
With nowhere to land
Echoes of mediocrity only fuel my drive
Staving fires from mere survival
Into the desire to thrive
While every injustice withers and dies
I bide my time refining my form
While the perfect storm subsides
The strengths I hide
Preside just beneath the surface
A revival impulse is convulsive therapy
Leaving me resolute within my purpose
Uncouth is the pretense
To claim and obtruding suspense
Whilst I am colluding and fearful
Whether I reminisce or remain pensive
The time has come to be cheerful
The only power over me
Is what I allow to reside
And keep me preventive
So if I choose to stay inside
It's because I'm designing
The next in line incentive
After I've repented
The only indefatigable witness
To my truth is me and God
And at times I ask myself
Will I know the blister's burden
Or fabricate a facade?
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 11:46 PM UTC
Ten years in a fenced cage under the Nile
restrained from the dense of the fish
raided in eventful motions and constraints
disused from the beautiful living existence
miles of glories and hails of mysteries
the waters swallowed and the hollows
borrowed cries and ails of gloomy sails
green flashes, trances minced and hissed
transpiring the intuitive caskets of energy
the fanning rotor roared harder and wider
further down beyond the extension of being
colluding, protruding deeper and within
cutting lateral slices of time and space
matting the unknown on disused walls
where illegible and delible oaths lays
hidden on rocks and cracks by crooks
As we sat invisible, affixed... telling tales
Ten years now unfenced, flying over the Nile
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 8:48 AM UTC
Perplexed, perplexed!
Bewildered by ***
My souls dazed; my hearts annexed.
Digress, Digress.
Alluding to brooding.
My thoughts eluding, the devils colluding
Oh tonto, oh tonto!
Amou ha huido, Oscuridad se ha apoderado.
Yo soy el fuego, infierno es mi paraiso.
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 8:24 PM UTC
when nights collide with me i am
completely stars innumerable
and crisp creaseless lines
ceaseless lips colluding with
your lips(nakedly small and pink
they are intimately open against
)in evening i, perhaps almost
,but then, surely when darkness is,
am your skin aligned
with gently
tugging you loose
to foil about my suddenly body
your body
and climb each other
into heaven mostly
Sep 1, 2011
Sep 1, 2011 at 6:09 AM UTC
In the turning I would spin
about
begin the magic
roundabout
twist the ropes and
in the twisting
I could cope
untangled I become the greater mess
hopelessness
like
homelessness
knows many houses
and
in those houses though there mansions be
I am adrift
admitting finally
which explains it totally?
It's as if I never understood what works of art that good men are
and by men I mean mankind which includes the female of the species
are we still **** Erectus?
do you not detect the irony?
derelicts and broken men lay anywhere
I see them everywhere
colluding with protruding avaricious eyes
I am wise to those ways.
and so like Whittington I turn,
returning to the origins
Darwin grins and says,
I told you so
I know
but because I doubted much like Thomas did
I saw it for myself and
felt the blood rush to my cheeks
He who seeks needs better sight than I and I have
blurry vision
except in 20/20 dreams.
as they say
It's all tickety boo until you
understand the reasons why
and I never knew.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
It was our final day together
During an awkward time, strolling purposely in the woods
Beyond town, sheltered by the interconnected canopy
Of colluding beech, joined in suppositious intimacy.
Pausing where serried rows of heavy-leafed fern gathered
Around a half-hidden stream,
And we stopped, lying down to make love.
In the cold fading light.
Fox and badger shuffled anxiously away, spooked by our jerky movements and unsteady moans.
We parted as the moon began blooming in the dark sky,
She returning to her husband, I to my wife.
I saw her again, I, an old man in a ***** coat fluttering in the wind,
Snatching at dying memories, remembering
A hundred other women in a hundred places,
Their features in lustful heat evaporating like water.
Seated on a park bench, a grandmother with a swollen leg
Bent over and senile, I, in a momentary, flashing epiphany, recognised her smile.
Her eyes, that once I loved, shrivelled by cataracts, she bellowed
At ghosts in the sunlight.
Identifying her long-dead husband in the gathering shadows.
Our frequent copulation had always been long and energetic
Enough to light up half the town, our laughter lighted
Up the rest. Walking through the fields or sitting in modest
Restaurants, our conversation roamed from favoured food to preferred, most stimulating books.
Mutually absorbed, we happily exhausted our youth!
Fifty years later, dribbling through
Pavement traffic, a strange, erratic
Coalition of people, bikes and mobility scooters,
She ****** out a shrivelled arm towards me,
An exclamation mark on a memory of soft bleached skin
Dripping with love,
Vaguely recalling me as a shade from a more
Hopeful time.
I shrank away from that shambling, once beautiful, form,
Refusing and betraying her,
Our lives and bodies once gloriously entwined; her fate also mine.
I remained unalterably committed to her altered end,
Minds fading gently together.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
Is it colluding if you get wind
Of the evil deeds of others
That will ultimately help you,
And you don’t try to stop them-
You don’t actually OFFER to help,
But you DO stand by and let it happen
And then reap all the benefits from it.
Is that “colluding by proxy”?
ljm
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC