The cultural filters are all in place
And truth, some say, is past its sell-by date
Weak hymns embalmed by hippies, and lost in space
Where time is always 1968

A poison-green tattoo on a fleshy back
No incense, but the Purell’s pretty strong
A ten-year-old gobbles his comfort snack
During Communion and a three-chord song

Our bishops quack and honk in flocks and herds -
We need a starets
                                           but all we get are words:


Intensify the Dallas Charter accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called intensify the Dallas Charter metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions Accountability focus accountability exclusively accountability collegial collective accountability responsibility address theme encounter dialectic collegiality variety universality unity flock dealing topic difficult reasons unexplored differences crisis difficult for bishops enable abusers gravely irreparably failures governance responsibility question engage conversation point brother problematic behavior cultivate culture correctio fraterna enables offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent offending other recognize criticism opportunity to tasks related willingness personally mistakes to each other feeling maintain fraternal relationship cases we damaging weakness anecdotal parenthesis to his speech encounters course ministry recollection forgive counseling for healing discussing matter rationally headway realized psyche of the person measure semblance justice inability forgive his  apparently perplexing consternating remarked noting changed personality of person realize humility mistakes learn mistakes better question unanswered unaddressed mistakes allowed consequences mishandling cases gathering conferences participants and journalists effective concrete measures combat scourge scandal technical theological sense term list reflection points adjunct secretary special portfolio combatting meeting chief architects roadmap for our discussion very, very concrete understatement seriously utter understatement things discussed follow-up meeting continued model of reform the so-called Metropolitan model metropolitan investigating disciplining wayward ecclesiastical provinces briefing responded you have to read the footnote disgrace investigations systemic coverup dismissed briefing expressed hope report position power prominence leadership structure report findings influence broader jurisdictions accountable faithful promises episodes  accountability supportive talking collegiality obligation misbehavior failures circumstances reputation representative discreet inquiries interview expression concern geographically confronted reported matter subject investigating disciplining malfeasance proposal wrongdoing explained carefully considered matter alternatives remarks paragraph  rehearsed alternatives footnote 6 of text speeches delivered sessions briefing spoke involvement laity lay involvement transparency transparent intensify the Dallas Charter…

smoke.

the smell of nicotine
rests on my black
graphic t-shirt.

the dwell of misery
rests on my back,
while music reverbs.

my black vans are
filthy with the weight
of pain.

a wallet,
filled with little notes.
writings from her
in my back pocket.

a very lonely bench awaits
my place as i sit and
try to out smoke
this familiar mental state.

i look out into the
water ahead, the creek’s
liquid mirror reflecting
her aura.

“oh god, not again.”

a sudden and sharp spike
of sadness runs through
me, a longing tear trails
my frozen cheeks.

then i remember him,
and how much i miss him.

i remember him calling out
for me along with mom,
and how harmoniously my
heart would pump gallons
upon gallons of hot burning
blood.

hot burning love.

i take another drag to mask
the molecules of reality
that i wish i wouldn’t have
to inhale.

i look up
at the aligning stars,
and by the grace
of the god i do not
believe in
do i tell you
that i let out a cry
so loud, that he himself must’ve
felt heaven shake.

with water flooding
my brown eyes, i
yelled and pleaded
whatever being
that could hear me
to end me, because

i tell you that
all this pain,

of missing certain people,
of longing for lost love,
of experiencing incompleteness,
of feeling so ******* unable to stand up,
of combatting the poison guilt is,

drags.

at my soul,
harder
than cigarette

smoke.

-melancholicreator

I am the zombie of Tinkerbell
Her living corpse
Dress sparkles all faded
Tinkling like a broken bell
My fairy dust no longer brings children the gift of flight
But endows my prey with the curse of second life
That I may twice devour their
Squirming, wriggling,
Writhing, scriggiling
Flesh
Just the way I like it
With a wide dark grin across my face
Teeth stained with blood and broken into points
Eyes dim, dull, and hallowed
Skin sallow and torn by the fighters,
Who battle for their death
Combatting the loss of their dignity
I lure them in with stale illusions and sickly sweet snares
Torn wings are no match for swift feet, but I manage
Pushed onwards, pulled forwards by a need, urge
To devour, consume, and engorge myself
Again with tender meat
And imbibe upon the sharp lifeblood
Of faerie.
For I, am the zombie Tinkerbell, and I hunger.
It's dinner time...

Arduous late Winter
woes amplify in February
false hope

We’re all sick
of constrictive clothes
and cold climes conducive to staying in

Cabin fever running rampant
45° t-shirts & sunglasses
everyone driving with their windows down  

Hoping Vernal rituals
performed early will
hasten Spring’s arrival

I’m done
fed up
ready to move on

Going crazy in the cold
writhing to get moving unimpeded
by frigidness and snow

I’m ready for Spring
for Summer
for Fall

I’m ready for the scent
of thawing soil in the air
biking in the Sun, verdance, and flowers in bloom

I’m ready for grass between my toes
Fireflies, crickets, peepers
and warm night stars


I’m sick of frost reddened runny raw noses
sick of numb fingers and toes
and having precious few daylight hours

I’m sick of combatting glacial winds with layers,
of treacherous icy apathy,
and dreary bleak boredom

I’m sick of not being able to sit on the ground
sick of long pants, long socks, long sleeves,
and silent stagnant long nights

So, despite the fact
that I’ll pine for January
every day over 90°

Despite the fact
that when mosquitoes swarm
I’ll wish a frost would **** the little *******

and despite the fact
I’ll get just as fed up
with temperate seasons

I still want Spring
and then Summer
and then Fall

But February brings false hope
and despite the lengthening cheery sun
months still stand

between us and t-shirt weather
mild nights, grassy hills,
  and emancipation from an inclement icebox atmosphere

She stunned me when I first saw her looks
Never seen like her even in books

An angel who dropped from the sky
To say to me "Sam! Hi!"

She instantly got my full attention
And I at once shown no pretention

She lives now in the corridors of my mind
You won't find a lady so gentle and kind

Now I miss her as I miss the air when I stop breathing
She lives in me, so God help me her seeing

Sam Burton (C)


Today is Friday, Oct. 10, the 289th day of 2014 with 82 to follow.

The moon is waxing. Morning stars are Jupiter, Uranus and Venus. Evening stars are Mars, Mercury, Neptune and Saturn.



Quotes for the day:



"Correction does much, but encouragement does more."



Johann Wolfgang von Goethe



"The first requisite for success is the ability to apply your physical and mental energies to one problem incessantly without growing weary."



Thomas A. Edison



POETRY

Israfel





Edgar Allan Poe



In Heaven a spirit doth dwell
"Whose heart-strings are a lute";
None sing so wildly well
As the angel Israfel,
And the giddy stars (so legends tell),
Ceasing their hymns, attend the spell
Of his voice, all mute.

Tottering above
In her highest noon,
The enamored moon
Blushes with love,
While, to listen, the red levin
(With the rapid Pleiads, even,
Which were seven,)
Pauses in Heaven.

And they say (the starry choir
And the other listening things)
That Israfeli's fire
Is owing to that lyre
By which he sits and sings -
The trembling living wire
Of those unusual strings.

But the skies that angel trod,
Where deep thoughts are a duty -
Where Love's a grown-up God -
Where the Houri glances are
Imbued with all the beauty
Which we worship in a star.

Therefore thou art not wrong,
Israfeli, who despisest
An unimpassioned song;
To thee the laurels belong,
Best bard, because the wisest!
Merrily live, and long!

The ecstasies above
With thy burning measures suit -
Thy grief, thy joy, thy hate, thy love,
With the fervor of thy lute -
Well may the stars be mute!

Yes, Heaven is thine; but this
Is a world of sweets and sours;
Our flowers are merely - flowers,
And the shadow of thy perfect bliss
Is the sunshine of ours.

If I could dwell
Where Israfel
Hath dwelt, and he where I,
He might not sing so wildly well
A mortal melody,
While a bolder note than this might swell
From my lyre within the sky.



BEAUTY AND HEALTH TIP

Strengthen your nails



Before you go to bed every night, use a nail-strengthening cream on your nails (and under, if they're long). This also keeps them hydrated, which is essential for healthy nails.



Trivia

Where did the name “Revlon: come from?



Nail polish distributors Charles Revson and his brother Joseph, along with nail polish supplier Charles Lachman, who contributed the "L" in the Revlon name, gave birth to the Revlon cosmetics company in 1932. Starting with just one nail product a nail enamel unlike any before it the three men pooled their paltry resources and developed a unique manufacturing process. Using pigments instead of dyes, Revlon was able to offer to women rich-looking, opaque nail enamel in a wide variety of shades never before available. In only six years, the company became a multimillion dollar organization, launching one of the most recognized cosmetics names in the world.



How many atoms are there in the universe?



Astronomers believe that the universe contains one atom for every 88 gallons of space.



How do animals influence the weather?



Living creatures create tiny weather systems called microclimates in their nests and burrows. For instance, bees fan their wings at the hive entrance during hot weather. This makes a cooling draft blow through the hive.

VOCABULARY



Splenetic

adjective



:


marked by bad temper, malevolence, or spite



Examples:



I know David was in a bad mood all day, but the splenetic tone of his reply to Brenda’s question was not necessary.



"If he were 10 or 15 years younger (or at least looked like he was), [Charlie] Sheen would be perfect as the splenetic, screed-spouting anti-hero of John Osborne’s 'Look Back in Anger.'" — From an article by Ben Brantley on the New York Times Arts Beat blog, May 26, 2011



Did you know?



In early Western physiology, a person's physical qualities and mental disposition were believed to be determined by the proportion of four ****** humors: blood, phlegm, yellow bile, and black bile. The last of these was believed to be secreted by the spleen, causing feelings of disposition ranging from intense sadness (melancholia) to irascibility. This now-discredited association explains how the use of "splenetic" (deriving from the Late Latin "spleneticus" and the Latin "splen," meaning "spleen") came to mean both "bad-tempered" and "given to melancholy" as well as "of or relating to the spleen." In later years, the "melancholy" sense fell out of use, but the sense pertaining to ill humor or malevolence remains with us today.





Courtesy of Merriam-Webster, Inc.



JOKES



Female Comebacks



Man: Haven't I seen you someplace before?
Woman: Yes, that's why I don't go there anymore.

Man: Is this seat empty?
Woman: Yes, and this one will be if you sit down.

Man: Your place or mine?
Woman: Both. You go to yours, and I'll go to mine.

Man: So, what do you do for a living?
Woman: I'm a female impersonator.

Man: Hey baby, what's your sign?
Woman: Do not enter.

Man: How do you like your eggs in the morning?
Woman: Unfertilized.

Man: If I could see you naked, I'd die happy.
Woman: If I saw you naked, I'd probably die laughing.

Man: Your body is like a temple.
Woman: Sorry, there are no services today.

Man: I would go to the end of the world for you.
Woman: But would you stay there?





Seminars for MEN




(Prepared and Presented by Females)

1. Combatting stupidity

2. You too can do housework

3. ***: Learn when to keep your mouth shut

4. How to fill an ice tray

5. We do not want ****** underthings for Christmas: give us money

6. Understanding the female response to your coming in drunk at 4am

7. Wonderful laundry techniques (formerly titled, "Don't wash my silks")

8. Parenting: It doesn't end with conception

9. Get a life; learn to cook

10. How not to act like a ******* when you're obviously wrong

11. Spelling: Even you can get it right

12. Understanding your financial incompetence

13. You: The weaker ***

14. Reasons to give flowers

15. How to stay awake in public

16. Why it is unacceptable to relieve yourself anywhere but the bathroom

17. Garbage: Getting it to the curb

! 18. You can fall asleep without it if you really try

19. The morning dilemma if IT is awake: Take a shower

20. I'll wear it if I **** well please

21. How to put the toilet lid down (formerly titled "No, it's not a bidet")

22. "The weekend" and "sports" are not synonyms

23. Give me a break: Why we know your excuses are bull

24. How to go shopping with your mate and not get lost

25. The remote control: Overcoming your dependency

26. Romanticism: Ideas other than ***

27. Helpful postural hints for couch potatoes

28. Mothers-in-law: They are people too

29. Male bonding: Leaving your friends at home

30. You too can be a designated driver

31. Seeing the true you (formerly titled, "You don't look like Mel Gibson when naked")

32. Changing your underwear: It really works

33. The attainable goal: removing "****" from your! vocabulary

34. Fluffing the blankets after flatula! ting is not necessary

35. Techniques for calling home before you leave work





The Bacon Tree



There are two guys who have been lost in the desert for weeks, and they're at death's door. As they stumble on, hoping for salvation in the form of an oasis or something similar, they suddenly spy, through the heat haze, a tree off in the distance.

As they get closer, they can see that the tree is draped with rasher upon rasher of bacon. There's smoked bacon, crispy bacon, life-giving juicy nearly-raw bacon, all sorts. "Oh my, Pepe" says the first bloke. "It's a bacon tree!!! We're saved!!!" "You're right!" says Pepe.

So Pepe goes on ahead and runs up to the tree salivating at the prospect of food. But as he gets to within five feet of the tree, there's the sound of machine gun fire, and he is shot down in a hail of bullets. His friend quickly drops down on the sand, and calls across to the dying Pepe.

"Pepe! Pepe! What on earth happened?"...

With his dying breath Pepe calls out...

"Ugh, run, run!... it's not a Bacon Tre! e...

Scroll Down...













...it's a Ham Bush"





HAVE A SUPER NICE FRIDAY and a GORGEOUS WEEKEND!

You put too much pressure on yourself.*  How often have I heard that, from my parents when I used to rip my hair from my head after softball games and school plays because I felt like I was stupid and incapable? From my therapist when I would continuously tell her how much anxiety I feel on a regular basis, like the world is collapsing on my shoulders and literally pinning me to the ground?  Now, from various teachers telling me I will be fine when I have panic attacks with tears leaving trails on my scarred cheeks and cannot stop shaking because the fear for the future and the terror of letting people down seems to be the hands around my neck, waiting for me to black out? How frequent have those words met my ears since I was five and began to look at myself like I was ugly, or at nine when I felt the need to hide what I ate so I would binge in my room, stuff bags of chips in baggy sweatshirt pockets so no one would see me as I cried about my size, but I continued to eat because it gave me some warped sense of paradoxical comfort?  And then at thirteen, when I felt I needed to do something about it so my stash moved from my bedroom to the bathroom, the place I locked myself alone for hours and stuck an unwilling finger down my throat so that all of these things that made me so not good enough would find their ways out of my limp body?  A good deal of this pressure was self-induced, but it was also learned.  You see, being my daddy's girl, every little child's dream, meant looking the part.  It meant passing on the chocolate cake on my birthday even though I had been waiting for it all year.  It meant being publicly ridiculed in fast food restaurants when I would try to free myself from his totalitarian diet regime and I would immediately be subjected to social homicide no matter who was there as a tactic to force me back into my place.  Maybe that's why I still cringe when people come into my workplace and embarrass their kids over petty things that won't matter to them the next day, but will scar the child for years to come.  It meant being taught that my only goal in life was to look pretty, and that because I am a girl, my voice means nothing.  It means learning to think I deserve the kind of love that tells me I am worthless if I am not a size six.  Being my daddy's girl meant that when the first boy I ever loved called me a fat ugly ******* on a regular basis that it was nothing new to me, he was just more frank about it.  It meant that when my please, don't's and my I don't like this anymore's were silenced by a friend's unwavering desires for power and control, I figured it was because he cared about me because that's what he told me.  After all, being my father's girl meant that I was nothing more than a pretty face, a porcelain doll, who was only good for being someone's *****, even if I was combatting against his advances.  
Being my daddy's girl meant sometimes, as a child, I wanted to be a boy, not because I was transgender, but because I wanted to be something of value that was not solely based on the beauty I did not have. Because of all this, being my daddy's girl meant never being good enough.  If all I could be was attractive, and it became clear that I was not, then what was left?  My sister grew into the skinny robot he wanted her to be.  She was my daddy's girl.  I never was, and I used my voice to speak out against every value he taught me.  He was conservative; I became a raging liberal.  He claims to be Christian; I began to question religion.  He was a sexist, homophobic bigot; I am a feminist and human rights activist.  As in all forms of tyranny, they try to shut you down if you shout the truth from the depths of your being.  But my voice will not stop screaming.  Still, how I felt about my looks began to affect everything else.  My father would try to support me in my activities and in school, but when I looked at him, all I could see was a big glaring manifestation of YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH staring me straight in the face.  And while this snowball has been rolling and building up for years, I have to stop believing the lies.  I cannot blame all of them on him; society has taught me that I am not a model, therefore I am nothing.  The church has taught me that I must be subservient to some man and that I will never be anything without him.  In case you couldn't figure it out, that will never happen. Overcoming this is not easy, and while my thoughts still panic and franticly bounce about from corner to corner, while my mind still travels to evil, lifeless places, I must crawl through the darkness.  I must proclaim to the world that I am enough, whether I believe it or not.

As a young girl I was always expected to do as I was told.
Don’t be too loud, don’t talk back, don’t appear to be sassy or bold.
Mind your manners, hold your tongue, there is no space for being rude.
Tone it down, cover it up, we don’t want your black girl attitude.

Forced into boxes with no space to move.
Restricted and restrained with everything to prove.
Constantly combatting the narrative they paint.
Making us look like animals while they look like saints.

We are said to be angry, bitter and loud.
Troublesome, uneducated, following the crowd.
Masculine, impute, stubborn and broken.
Accessories, trophies that ”one” friend, the token.
These strings of disrespect will no longer be allowed.
I don’t care if I’m not polished enough, I’m unwilling to be cowed.

Take back your subtle hate and blatant prejudices all wrapped up in a bow.
Served on a platter with fluffy words of disapproval and the saying “that’s just the way things go”.

They say we are stubborn, unmovable and complacent.
Well , consider how our feelings are always compartmentalized and latent.
Our cries go unheard, our request are unmet.
No one to protect us, left on our own to fret.

This debt that we carry is too much to bare.
It’s just as heavy as the onus that  we all have to share.
We are ethereal, complex and fed up with your satire.
You can have whatever you think of me, I’m done being your Sapphire.

Love* is adapted from one half when the insecurities of one person become greater than their own self confidence

Love is adapted on the other half when the self-esteem of a person is enough to be given to another, in hopes for it to be reciprocated

When one half reaches the quintessence of inner confidence through the charisma and compassion of their "lover," he/she decides they're independent enough to complete their own individual path to spiritual enlightenment, while the other half becomes dead weight that is dragged along with them

The other half is so immersed in the happiness of their companion, his/her quest to enlightenment becomes conjoined with the path of their other half. Instead of working on his/her own quest to knowledge and understanding of the real truth behind love, their vision is vaporized into thin air to compensate for their partner's path to illumination. When one half has reached individual insight, their other half is swiftly disregarded and sent into a nightmare of insecurity and restlessness where they can only be woken up from the confidence and compassion of another human being. This is the most vicious cycle humanity will face until its demise.

Love is not a goal of solidarity, but rather a temporary method of combatting the insecurities you are subconsciously not aware of.

Your name fits in my mouth like an extra
large marshmallow;
It fills it entirely. All the while combatting the sliminess of my gums with its pillowy chalk,
trying to escape any chance it can.

Hunger throughout the world,
Wars at home and abroad,
Political scandals and childish debate,
Global warming, the truth awaits,
STI's, part-going teens, Alcohol and drugs,
police combatting crime committing thugs.
The world is a mess,
and no one seems to care.

I do,
I care about the famine,
earth and wars,
the scandals and debate,
truth,
disease, frivolity and substances,
crime,
all these things I profess to care about.
Do you?

Being as lonesome as I
Expels all thoughts of happiness
A darkness looms over me
Telling me to give up hope
Reality is cruel, but
I shall stand tall
Combatting the demons
Everywhere in sight

life is contradictions, and love is contradictions.
both are complicated enough to give you a
headache but really they’re the simplest
things in the world. they are like the warm
weather; it sneaks up on you slowly and
it’s pleasant and soft and bright, optimistic
it caresses your skin so you might as well
go outside and you run along and you feel
the pain as you gasp for breath and you
push harder because you want your muscles
to be sore, to ache for days after this one,
you want to be reminded of this moment
and it is a painful moment, you want the
pain but you’re too cowardly to inflict it
yourself. so maybe if you appear to be
chasing a goal you can elude yourself,
or someone. maybe. so you’re running,
and you’re combatting inner pain by causing
outer, and it makes no sense and it hurts
like hell and you can’t stand it but you don’t
want to, you never did, and your balled-up fists
grow sweaty and uncomfortable and you
run and run and
boom
the warmth becomes heat and the softness
stabs you and surrounds you and the optimistic
sun blinds you with its light and you squint
your eyes against it
but there is no moving the sun.
it will go down on its own.

~
Bring your whirlwinds with you;
in the snow angel summer
bring Margot the sun.

In the hour of red glare
a rush to pick slowberries
before getting caught up in the silk.

Prisms, mirrors, lenses!
strategies for combatting visibility:
keep your eyes closed,
face away from the window.

The myriad threads of people in hiding,
they eat their own web each day,
and yet something always shines
in the heart's secret annex.

Men and women are
separated from each other,
the girls are on a train
to the Bergen-Belsen,
"white founts falling
in the courts of the sun."

Margot now cries quietly;
so silently she weeps over
sunshine and hate.
~

A cemetery with a name only known as “Lost Soul”
Sue who no one really knew
Assumptions but nothing really thought through
Sue was often considered to be a Witch
It was spells enchanted into a wave of hands like a switch
Evil that was always on Sue’s mind
Darkness with no lighted moon in having people think in being blind
But within their own subconscious being sublime
It was in the Old Craven’s house
There was nothing moving, but some lonely mouse
This was the house where Sue dwelled
But as the hour glass turns, it was her wizardry being the tell
Sue was in no way related to previous owners of the house
But some considered her to be a spouse
Spouse or not but mysterious indeed
But please allow me to continue to proceed
Sue lived in the Craven’s house all alone
Why she did in the house wasn’t really known
It wasn’t until a fierce stormy night where spirits were seen disembarking from the Craven’s house
The lightening provided the video screen, and the thunder of evil in what it all could mean
Loud moans and a witch’s ***
Eerie emotions that would be definitely hitting the spot
Sue was pursuing she was a witch
But having no music not needing any pitch
Spells that would tell forgetfulness like a drift of a well
A night of breathless life
Mythical or fiction
The fact remains this was a condition
The unspoken word that was never ever told
Her powers were like a curse from hell
To many doubters, it was a thought of oh well
It was Sue’s forces combatting the evil from within
It was a moment of revenge
But it was no tricks being treats
It was becoming a night that won’t be entirely complete
Heaven holding the answer and hell being the firer ashes
Sue raised her hands to fight the Heavenly skies
But her fate that wasn’t really thinking wise
A lightening bolt having full charge
Sue was struck and died instantly
She was later placed in a grave only known as Sue
The evil was finally over
But did it really come to an end
Hidden spirits vow to come back on the hour of when
Sue’s grave reads, “ Hell has become my home, but I will return to once again roam”
Hell opened her gates, and sue became the fate
But the hour had come, but was it too late
Sue’s last name having no word
You now know and have heard
Utterance having a patient silence
Light guided by the moon, and darkness remembered as only a forever gloom.

in your own world
repainting the walls
dying your hair
combatting the urge to make it all fall.
how I could make you see
this isn’t a limited belief
silent
your expectations of me

combatting dwindling steps,
inhibitions are crumbling,

a stray from gray bushes,
no strokes to follow,
meld in the silence of hollow

whims to unveil gleaming
holy grail,
slapping torches and fires to season prevails

On this path obstructed by red rose bushes
Lies the era of our golden dreams
Whose thorns pierce every limb of our body
But whose pulchritude emphasizes on its radiant gleam


And when those thorns disseminate pain
Our eyes are reassured by the blindening red
The kind of red that rejuvinates hope
And enlightens those who simply sit and mope

But for some it may breed new selfish desires
Desires that are capable of arousing compulsion
And desires that gradually exteriorize to lust's
But when such lust's lie with in reach
They simply abrade ,
Just like the iron rusts

Despite knowing the pain it entails
We transition on this path from threshold to terminus.
Combatting incessantly in this unremitting struggle
We allow the gust to bear us along.

it’s just not fair
feed her your leftover energy
then fuel her with your lifeless stare

and now we behold
this constructed spirit
purposely provided to fit your mould

a hollow container, she’s not alone
but she is conditioned so deeply
to lock up the unknown

who is she?
for now she is a deer

only very few can see
that she is combatting her fear

"Work Politricks" ... A Poem written by Big Virge 26/7/2005

My Works ... Poli - TRICKING ... !!!!!  

They're Tactics Are SICKENING ... !!!  

They're Using Their ... " Power " ...  
To Make People ... "cower" ... !!!  
  
It's ALL ABOUT This ...  
The Usual ... " OLD Tricks " ...  
  
They're PROMOTING WANKERS .... !!!!!  
And YES The Odd ***** ... !!!  
  
The Way That They Do It ..........  
Is Making Me ... SICK ... !!!!  
  
They TRY To Be Smooth ...  
When Making Their Moves ...  
  
They TRY To Make THINKERS ...  
Start Wearing ... "Horse Blinkers" ... !?!  
  
So That They .................................................................­................ "don't see" ..............  
Through Their Work FALLACIES ... !!!  
  
Come ON People PLEASE ... !!!!  
  
Somebody ... AGREE ... !?!  
cos' These Days I'm Thinking ...  
It Can't Just Be ... ME ... ?!?  
  
Maybe It IS ... !?!  
  
Am I ........................... "PARANOID" ............................ ?!!!?  
  
Or Is It That ... " I'm " ...  
Surrounded By BOYS ... ???  
  
BOYS Who ......................................... Avoid ..............  
COMBATTING Their ... " Ploys " ...  
  
And GIRLS Who REALLY ...  
THINK They're SMART ... ?!?  
  
WHY ... ?  
Because They LIKE To LICK *** ... !!!  

From Colleagues To BOSSES ...  
Their Plans Are A FARCE ... !!!  
  
THIS Is THE PROBLEM ...  
Their Card Has Been MARKED ...  
  
They're MOVING ON UP ...  
By Acting Like ... " TARTS " ...  
  
This Is Why I ...  
Now NEED TO ..................................................... Depart .................. !!!!!  
  
Cos' Working With ******* ...  
And STUPID UPSTARTS ...  
Is Making Me FEEL ...  
Like It's Time To IMPART ...  
  
Some PROOF of My Power ...  
And ... TEAR UP Some *** ... !!!!!  
  
By Showing These People ...  
What Lies DEEP WITHIN ...............  
  
A Person Whose Cool ...  
Is BURSTING To SIN ... !!!  
  
They NEED To Be CAREFUL ... !!!  
... Or Be A VICTIM ... !!!!!  
  
Cos' ... WHATEVER Happens ...  
When ANGER Begins ...  
  
The Devil WON'T Stop Me ...  
From ... FLIPPING The Script ... !!!!  
  
I Did It Before ...  
But They NEVER Saw ...  
How Many of Them ...  
I'd Knock To THE FLOOR ... !!!!!!!!!!!  
  
This REALLY Is Stuff ...  
I DON'T Want To ... " Perform " ... !!!!!  
  
But What Can I Do ... ?  
  
When This IS Now The ... " Norm " ... ?!?  
  
Most Days When At Work ...  
I'm Calming MY STORM ......................  
  
Just For THESE PEOPLE ...  
Who ... Like To PLAY GAMES ... ?!?  
  
My Boss Took A YEAR ...  
To Get Used To My NAME ... !!?!!  
  
He's From The Old School ...  
of ... REDNECK Type FOOL ... !!!  
  
Who's Now USING Tactics ...  
That He SHOULD'T Use ... !!!!!  
  
Like USING My Colleague ...  
Cos' She's A ... Young FOOL ... !!!  
  
Who CLEARLY Is STUPID ...  
And NEEDS Some More School ... !!!  
  
SCHOOLING ... On Life ...  
And Doing Things RIGHT ...  
  
Like ... SHUTTING Her Mouth ...  
When Management Types ...  
Are TRYING IT On ...  
And SINGING ... " Old Songs " ...  
  
When They KNOW What They're Doing ...  
Is ... TOTALLY Wrong ... !!!!!  
  
Like DENYING ... " rises " ...  
Because of ... SURPRISES ... !!!  
  
Like People NOT BUYING ...  
Because of ... HIGH PRICES ...  
  
Or Bonus DENIAL ...  
  
SEE These Are The Styles ...  
That Should Make A Manager ...  
Have To ... Stand TRIAL ... !!!!!  
  
Their Actions Are VILE ... !!!  
They FILL With NO TILES ... !?!  
  
They Then Have THE CHEEK ...  
To Sit There and SMILE ... ?!?  
  
They DON'T LIKE ... " My Type " ...  
Cos' What I Say ... RILES ...  
WITHOUT Giving Credence ...  
To BLEMISH My File ... ?!!!?  
  
They DON'T LIKE My Demeanour ...  
Cos' I  Am ............ Laid Back ...................................  
  
But This Is Because ...  
My Work DOESN'T Lack ...  
  
A COMPLETE Inspection ... !!!  
For FAULTS And Defections ...  
I'm ALWAYS Prepared ... !!!!!!  
I Use GOOD PROTECTION ... !!!!!!  
  
Cos' Colleagues These Days ...  
Are FULL OF Deceptions ....  
And MANY Are SPREADING ...  
Some ... HORRID INFECTIONS ... !!!!!!!  
  
It Seems That ... " Their PLAN " ...  
Is To Understand WHY ... ?!?  
  
My Work Is Done SWIFTLY ...  
And I .... " COOL The Fan " .... !!!!!!  
  
The Answer Is Simple ...  
YES ... I AM THE MAN ... !!!!!!!!!  
  
Who DOESN'T Get ... "Caught ......................................................  
In Their Conversations .........  
  
They Are FULL OF ***** ..... !!!  
And ***** ... LOVE A ***** ... !!!!!  
  
These People FOR REAL ...  
Are CLEARLY Quite SICK ... !!!  
Cos People Like THESE ...  
  
Create ...  
  
.... " Work PoliTRICKS " ....

The downpour outside rattles
Like a thousand sand-filled flutes
Echoing in the night air
Singing through the storm
And providing the melody forlorn
As the rain giants are born

As I lay and listen
To the symphony of beings
Ancient and always
In their core
Born in storms
As always before
I tuck myself into the noise

And I fight the heat of summer
And its unnatural reign in the dark
With a fan fluttering softly
Next to my heaven of slumber
As the thunder thunders
In even numbers

I ponder ponder ponder
Through my empty mind I wander
Picking scraps up off the floor
Every each one ever fonder
Drifting calmly into my shore
From an ocean dancing evermore

I lay here in the dark
Hearing buzzes in the shadows deep
As I drift into sleep
And forth the dreams creep
From corners of my psyche
In groups, holding tightly
In waves of light and lucidity
Combatting this humidity

And I savor summer nights here
With eyes of smoke
And stomached beer
I sleep in soft movement
As the heat retains its endurance
And warms my dreams
Filled with muffled, happy screams

An empty chest
A stomach of pain
Swirling thoughts
Around in my brain

Countless hours
No time to live
Everything I am
I have to give

There's no point
Unless there's love
An endless equation
No one can solve

Day by day
It's all the same
Misery and sarrow
With someone to blame

Are you living?
Finding happiness
Or are you surviving?
Combatting mental illness

No courage to get help
Independence is key
Aid is unaffordable
Never free

Kindness of the innocent
A beacon of light
Someone to follow
Out of the black night

You and me
love like a
memory
moving
forwards backwards
up down side

no need to count
the ticks of the
clock
of life

better to feel them
listen
tickle
like every beat
of the short
life

we call love

one quasar to the next
frogpond
thoughts lost and found
more quickly
than a political
flip flop

chasing the dream
of living life
decently

without much mean
drama

you and me
one kiss
at a time

and us
one shake one tear one
laughter

at a time fighter
combatting the evils
of the humans
splurging out
of the news
like no tomorrow

but you and me
and
us
we cant afford
to dwell on every moment of that
vector

or the quasar might combust
from their rancid hearts

You and me
love like a
memory
moving
towards the better
times for you and me now
and them maybe
some day

so you and me
kid
kissing our way out of their
problems
with this love

and us
yall and them
taking the trickle

that we took from
them

the good ones

Stephen Jules Rubin
Santa Fe NM
late feb 2018

“I wanted to be happy”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room
Intrusive thoughts
Dismaying salvation of pathologized compliance
Masking behaviour for acceptance
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable
Dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding
Belted and crying
Please stop, it hurts
Fearful avoidance
Nothing feels safe
Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain
Complex post traumatic stress disorder
Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic
Chronic pain with desolation
Desperately craving the touch of another human
Covid times; worsening depression combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping
Powerlifting self regulation though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you
They would make effort
Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.

You’re a good friend and a great liar
Your confidence is a fickle ceasefire
You give others the benefit of the doubt
But you doubt yourself, inside and out
You can dish it, but certainly can’t take it
Mindlessly spitting words of wisdom, your latest smash hit
Words that have weight for other people
But never for you or your clan of Sheeple

You’re a blind babbler, a social shambler
Combatting the voice inside you
This incessant, never ending mind chew
It’s galloping through La-La Land
Thought after thought to beat the band
If you deserve the best, then why don’t you think you do?

You wince at every word that comes out of your mouth.
This journey that inevitably leads south
You’re the envy of everyone else. Can’t you see?
So confident, footloose and fancy free
You have great willpower in the presence of your friends.
On your own, you have none.
Some things are easier said than done

I think I'm my worst psychiatrist.
While a good psychiatrist would diagnose the problem,
I create excuses for why the problem is there.
And then I create excuses for the excuses.
And then I create excuses for the excuses that originally excused the excuse.
And then I confuse myself with my own logic resulting in more anger, more confusion, and you guessed it, more excuses.

And ironically, this entire poem is just a big excuse.

I don't want to face my problems,
Knowing that they are nothing to worry about.
I'd rather cower at the "power" they hold,
Than try my hand at solving them.

But my hands are smooth, unbattered extensions of the very essence of me.
According to every person and history ever,
I have it perfectly.

And my hands aren't used to venturing within my inner workings,
Searching through the slimy and greasy machinery for the root of the problem.
No, my collar is white and my slacks are clean from top to bottom.

From time to time as the sun no longer shines,
My hands become restless.
They yearn to take a look within, just a quick little check in.
And nevertheless, I confess, I allow my hands
Entrance.

As always, I wince at the pain. It shocks me through my core. My eyes cease seeing, I begin to question my being, while my face is dripping in tears.
My surgery continues on
for seemingly years.

There's no novocaine or amnesia to numb the fiery emotions that release from my body.
Instead I'm forced to endure the awkward combination of these combatting feelings.

Then I finally rip from my innards the tight grasp of my hands.
They breach the surface covered in dark, black blood.

I don't feel much better afterwards, no I really don't.

I just create one final excuse.
That helps me wither away into sleep.

I know myself as much anyone else
But I don't want to admit,
Just as much as anyone else,
That I need help.

stumbling through the vicious night
with myriad hurdles on my path
impaired by the diminished sight
combatting loneliness and wrath

the wheel of life spins uncontrolled
its perils coming all too near
the chilling facts as they unfold
now fill my heart with massive fear

is this the place where i belong?
the ghastly fate that i have earned?
whatever choice i made was wrong
a lesson that was sorely learned

my inner voice is screaming loud
my life force will soon be deplete
please take away this painful shroud
and save me from this dead end street

the smokey memories of Summer
fan on high, combatting heat waves
hair glued to the forehead from sweaty laughter
on the phone for one, two, three many hours
always laughing

but now the sticky fire is gone
noses are runny and temples are cold
dry knuckles chafe against a keyboard wanting to smell the same laundry detergent from a Summer back in time
drying eyes redden as rivers flow into the scorching season
a wet upper lip trembles at time lost
hours on the phone, or lying in bed alone?
always trembling

I was in a forlorn room combatting beasts without bodies, only mouth that spits out oppression
Some lit up a candle and made their presence felt
By the door are familiar appearances simpering at my persistent maladies
Panting, I attempted to reach over their arms albeit not one of them extended his hand

Perhaps, it's time to sever ties with those who are standing near but are never actually there

“I wanted to be happy,”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home.
Disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room.
Intrusive thoughts-
Dismaying salvation of apathologized compliance.

Masking behaviour for acceptance.
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable,
dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding.
Belted and crying,
“Please stop, it hurts.”
Fearful avoidance-
Nothing feels safe.

Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat.
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain.
Complex post traumatic stress disorder.

Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic.
Chronic pain with desolation-
Desperately craving the touch of another human.

Covid times; worsening depression, combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping.
Powerlifting self regulation,
though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you,
they would make effort.

Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance.
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

We have the same
price. Do not go into the sea. There was
no point to look back again.

The unwritten words
can talk by combatting. The prophecy
speaks in proxy and becomes history.

What was the myth
of collecting all the poisons to **** the
earth? Tools are making a wasteland.

wearing life like
a triumph
the crown that we are
in the face of faith

combatting their desires to
intrude
my stage of joy
good luck you all

wearing life like
a triumph
of crowns dripped in
30 degrees of undeniable
splendid ******
sweat

drinking the triumph of life
on its own
in an ocean of
fulfilment