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"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
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May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 9:18 AM UTC
The Clubhouse
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
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61
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.
0
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC
Booming Rhetorics (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
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.
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20
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.
0
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
Untitled
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.
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Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 6:36 PM UTC
Beauty Within A Rotten Frame.
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.
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Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
Paradoxical couplets
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."
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Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 10:20 PM UTC
Theia
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
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Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 10:44 PM UTC
Britney
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
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Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
a scurrilously anonymous missive
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.
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Sep 22, 2012
Sep 22, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
falter
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.
0
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 3:39 AM UTC
NAME THAT GOON
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.
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52
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.
0
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 2:38 PM UTC
magnifice colluding which destroys souls
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
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May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
the death of Methuselah
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.
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Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Last Man on Earth
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
0
Jun 27, 2024
Jun 27, 2024 at 12:49 PM UTC
~•§•~ Spinning Thoughts ~•§•~
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.
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Jun 14, 2019
Jun 14, 2019 at 8:07 AM UTC
Vision Quest
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
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Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:31 AM UTC
Sublimate, Reiterate
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;
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May 24, 2011
May 24, 2011 at 11:37 AM UTC
Untitled
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
0
Apr 12, 2021
Apr 12, 2021 at 8:22 PM UTC
Light Shining On Darkness Of Psychiatry
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?
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Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 11:46 PM UTC
Blister's Burrowing Burden
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
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Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 8:48 AM UTC
Of the Nile....
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.
0
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 8:24 PM UTC
an eccentric jester blabbers
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
0
Sep 1, 2011
Sep 1, 2011 at 6:09 AM UTC
Untitled
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.
0
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
Arable land
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.
0
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 6:06 PM UTC
FINAL MEETING
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.
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38
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
0
Mar 26, 2019
Mar 26, 2019 at 2:25 PM UTC
COLLUSION