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r Dec 2014
i met her at the crow bar -
a mescalero from amarillo
- her name was lily
and she was in from the field

wearing tiger stripe camos
cut short like i like 'em
and she liked to hike them
- all commando

she had a tattered boony hat -
a kevlar vest and a tat
that said - the wild, wild west -

her shoulder holsters
were packed with two .40s

- lordy, lordy -

she said they bolstered her
fire power


we were commando stylin'
...on the blue mesa.

12/5/14  
:)
\¥/\
  |     • bm
/ \
Meri pehchan shirf itni hai ki "I'm born in INDIA" Bharat meri pehchan h, Bharat mera samman h, Bharat mera Abhimaan h
||
Aap mujhshe sab kuch cheen sakte **, mera tan mera lahu par meri pahchaan mujhse Bhartiya hone ki nahi cheen sakte aur wahi meri identity hai, mai bhartiya hu mujhe iss par bahot garv hai or iss se uper koi garv mujhe chahie v nahi ||
Mai Bharat maa ka beta hu pahle ,uske baad ek maa ne mujhe janm dia h is sthal bharat bhumi par ussi ki lie kuch likha tha ye ki..
KAASH MERI ZINDGI ME SARHAD KI KOI SHAAM AAYE
KAASH MERI ZINDGI MERE WATAN KE KAAM AAYE
NAA KHAUF HAI MAUT KA OR NAA AARJU HAI JANNAT KI
MAGAR JAB KABHI ZIKR ** SAHEEDO KA
KAASH MERA V NAAM AAYE KAASH MERA V NAAM AAYE
This is what i would love to introduce myself like that....
Agar koi puche ki kaun tha wo -
JAB KOI PUCHE MERE BAARE ME
TO MERI YE PEHCHAAN LIKH DENA
UTHANA MERA COMMANDO DAGGER
OR CHATTI PAR HINDUSTAAN LIKH DENA
KOI PUCHE PAGAL THA WO KAUN
TO BHAGAT SINGH OR KRANTIKARIO KA CHELA
OR INQUILAB KA GULAM LIKH DENA
AUR BACHA ** JO **** ME LAHU
NIKALNA USSE OR FEKANA ZAMEEN PE
OR MAA TUJHE SAALAM LIKH DENA
Yhai parichaye tha hai or rahega...... |||||||||
Aaj kal bahot ek mudda chal rha h Desh bhakti kuch logo ne usse Hinduo se jod dia kuch ne mushlmaano se kuch ne sikkho se kuch ne ishayeo se, ek baat yaad rakhna hum pehchaan hai Ek aisa mahavidyalaya ek aisa university (its like an university ,its like a college the country is like college, we may have different wings, we may have different subjects but we all belong to une college/ university and that is Bharat ||
aaj bahot jaruri ** gya uss ‪#‎traitor‬ us gaddar ya behter language me usse ‪#‎gaddar‬ or ‪#‎Chutia‬ khenge..
lets talk about that person jisne har fauji har iss bharat maa ke bete ko hurt kia h aaj uske baare me baat karna bahot jaruri ** gya h
Naa hinduo se naa mushalmano se
iss mulk ko taqleef hai gaddar or baemaano se
jinhe hum haar samajh baithe the
gala apana sajane ko
wahi ab naag ban baithe
humhi ko kaat khane ko
Pichle 2-3 mahine, it has been disturbing me a lot " I being an Indian ,I being a simple son of this motherland feel hurt ..
Bura lagta haikaaran ye hai log kahte hai hum kuch kar nahi sakte
"Aisa hai karne par aa jaye to bahot kuch kar sakte hai , lekin hum samman karte hai bharat ke sarrwoch nyayalay ka (Supreme court ka )" or uske aadesh ki awhelna nahi karna chahte hai , uske aadesh ka paalan karte hue kuch gaddaro ko aaj v chod rakha hai,
warna aisa hai kaam hi haddia todne ka or jaan lene ka hindustani fauz karti hai |
kisi ne kaha mai unn gaddaro ka naam lena v pasand nahi karunga,bcz wo itna v deserve nahi karte ki unka naam is juban par aaye
but ek cheej bolna bahot jaruri hai ''ki Bhartiya senaa ****** hai"
Agar gharo me baithe ** naa or tumhari behne or tumhari maaye ghar se nikal kar jaa rahi hai to sirf ye hindustani fauz hai jiski dumm pe tumne bhai hone kaa baap hone ka farz nahi nibhaya hoga "this is the only indian armed forces which maintain the degnity of a soldier nad maintains that brotherhood" aapki bahne aapki maaye agar surakshit hai to wo bharat ki senaye hai jiske kaaran hai , bolne ke pahle socha karo or kismat bahot acchi thi ki fauz ke saamne nahi bola warna jo Hero bana di na iss desh ne ,fauz tum jaise ko choddti bhai nahi ....magar ye bharat ka samvidhan hai "there is the constitution of India" jisne baandh rakha hai humare haatho ko , Krodh karna meri aadat nahi hai magar aata hai gussa islie aata hai kyuki chanakya ne kaha ki akshar maine juthe logo ko mushkurate hue dekha hai .. jo sach bolta hai or dil se bolta haai usko gussa bahot aata hai or ye gussa iss bat ka hai ki iss desh me kutto ko maarne ki permission nahi hai isliye abhi tak bache hue ** "Ask ur sister ask ur family members ,if there are 10 young boys & if there is a single soldier ,ask a young girl where would you go for the help and whom would she ask for the help & i insure this that girl would go to a soldier and ask and she will say one thing suddenly she will use this word Bhaiya meri help kijie" kya hai ye jawani sambhal nahi rahi hai to batao 23 saal me Saheed Bahagat Singh,
Ram Prashad Bishmil bada bada kaam kar ke chale gye, bahot garmi aree sena join karo bharat ki fauz me aaodushmano se lado naaghar ke ander kyu dushmani ka mahaool banate **.....
Kisi ek bewkoof ne ye kah diya ki Bhagat Singh jaisa hai ,Abe sharm karo and clear ur facts before you compare that guy with revolutionaries, kaun the wo or kiski baat kar rahe ** uss inshaan ki who can't deliver two right sentences in one particular languages,
Aap uski comparison kar rahe ** jo Bharat ke samvidhan ko gaddar kah rha hai..
Thik hai bolne ki azadi hai magar ye azadi di kisne hai ," The freedom has been given to you bye the constitution of this country,The Honorable Supreme Court has some guidelines the honorable constitution of this country has some guideline and we must respect that "
Aap kaise Bhartiya sena ko ****** kah sakte ** sharm karo uss sentence par agar aaj v bacchia surakshit hai if the Indian youth if everybody who ever is doing what ever they want to do if this freedom has been given to them is just because of one thing that Indian Army ,Navy,Airforce, Indian armed forces are fighting for you day and night.
Jab tum sone jaate ** tab unki duty ka waqt shuru hota hai , sharm khao iss baat k lie aur yaad rakho Bharat ko todne ki koshish mat karo
Naa hinduo se naa mushlmano se
Iss mulk ko taqleef thi hai gaddaro se or bayemano se .
Or yaad rakho "Apni azadi ka galat upyog mat karo "
JAI HIND
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
Web- skdisro.weebly.com
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Aaron LaLux Jun 2016
∆ The Fear (Orlando Commando) ∆

Oh my God son,
did you hear,
there was another terrorist attack,
and again comes The Fear.

The shootings by these psychos,
struck some familiar cords,
extreme actions by extremist with suicidal tendencies,
leads to the tightening of borders,

the attacks in Orlando last week,
happened on Saturday Night,
gives us all The Fever and The Chills,
all at the same time.

The incident occurred,
during at a club in Orlando,
a rouge shooter emerged,
and went Extremest commando,

this ****** had his finger on the trigger,
until EMTs arrived to put their fingers on the pulse,
of victims slain for no good reason at all,
this violence is insane when will it halt?

Oh how patronizingly patriotic and fitting everything is!

From shootings in Paris,
to drones strikes in deserts,
if you ask me,
they’re all terrorist,
extremist are extremist,
extremism is extremism,
I don’t support any extreme,
I don’t support any regime,
I don’t support patriots in chariots,
I don’t support Sharia law in it’s most extreme variance,

fck this,

I fckn mean this,

why I have to fckn cuss,
to get your attention,
three minutes to make a point,
with the words I mention,
intentions,
set,
like smart bombs and ******’s focus,
IMF got the world in debt dollars are tokens,
tokens we use to play,
the game of life until God takes us away,

away,
gotta be a better way,
than bombing each other,
why the fck did we even enter Iraq,
and engage in that trouble,
what’s the real reason,
and no don’t fckn say oil,

bombs over Baghdad,
down with Saddam,
up with the black flag,
stab you in the back like a black ***,
fck that that’s all hate,
why the fck are us as in US even in Iraq,
why do attack others can’t we find the time to just relax and relate,

can’t really blame President Baraka Flacka,
he’s done as good as any of us could in his position,
a president is just one man he’s not God,
so he has to do what he does to pursue his visions,
still we spend millions on maniacal missions,
making incisions into civilizations putting them into critical conditions,

I must be a punk because I feel like all religion is Bad Religion,

NO ONE IS INNOCENT,

that’s what ISIS is trying to say,
that’s why they chose to attack a normal place,
because when the US kills 500,000 in Iraq,
shooting 100 people in a bar in Paris doesn’t seem that bad,

fck it,
someone could walk into this crowd right now and start shooting,
just like,
a hurricane could hit Florida today and by the tonight there’d be looting.

NO ONE IS INNOCENT,

that’s what ISIS is trying to say,
we all play our part,
in this macabre play,
and I warn you right now,
don’t ignore the problems and think they’ll just go away,

if you work your *** off,
then you pay your taxes,
we’ve all got blood on our hands,
and I’m not saying that those in foreign lands,
are any better than us *******,
anyone with an AK-47 can get buried in the sands!

But what the fck ever,
have another beer cheers,
pretend everything’s ok,
try and drown out The Fear with beers,

but you can not ignore,
that tightening feeling in your stomach,
and can not ignore the fact that we’re all lost,
sea sick on the high seas feeling like I might *****,
so we stare up at the stars,
hoping we can catch a ride on a comet,

hoping maybe someone will save us,

we save up,
but still our taxes go to destruction,
supposedly targeting the axis of evil,
but regardless the target bombs have only one function,

destruction,
there’s nothing smart about a smart bomb,
anyone that wishes to wage war should just move to another planet,
and all of us that wish to wage peace should just stay here,

****** is ******,
I don’t want to hurt any other human being,
that’s it,
I’m sick of rooting for the home team,

I feel so fckn ashamed to be an American right now,

NOT ANOTHER BOMB DROPPED IN MY NAME!

Where do we go,
when everyone’s gone,
and there’s no one left to blame?

Right here,
the red, white and blue,
same colors as France,
these colors don’t run fool!

To proud,
to admit our mistakes,
like when you lie to someone you love,
they confront you and you punch them right in the face,

except for instead of a punch,
we unleash bio-chemical energy warfare,
call it a hunch,
but I’d say we are all guilty of war crimes here,

here,
have some facts bro,
Raqqa,
attacked for,
extremist attackers,
attacking the people of Paris no answers,

only questions,

no pleas for peace,
only military police,
only guns and more machismo,
still no peace in the Middle East,

can we please get a little peace in the Middle East?

Can we please get a little peace here for that matter,
can we just have the love and let the hate evaporate,
uggh it's all so painful and so heartbreaking,
and I don't know how much more of this I can take!

And usually I can ignore it,
and just say it’s someone else’s problem,
but honestly this whole world is fct,
unless we find resolution and solutions for these problems.

Oh my God son,

Oh my God son,
did you hear,
there was another terrorist attack,
and again comes The Fear…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

Hollywood Hearts available worldwide 7/7/16

#orlandoshooting #pulseshooting #pulsenightclub #terrorist #isis #stoptheviolence #terroristattack #peace
RIP Peace...
jeremejazz Dec 2010
Ako’y isa lamang pinuno,
Gumabay sa isang hukbo.
Oras ay itinataya upang magturo,
Upang bigyan ng kaalaman ang mga pribado.


May mga taong gusto akong tularan,
Mga nasa ikatlong taon ng paaralan.
Tungkulin ko sila’y turuan,
Upang sila’y magkaroon ng kaalaman.


Mga COCC kung sila’y tawagin,
Lahat sila’y may sinusunod na tungkulin.
Mga katulad ko’y dapat sundin,
Upang makamit nila ang kanilang hangarin.


Meron akong isang CO na nakilala,
Pansin ko’y kanyang nakuha.
Hindi ko maipaliwanag ang kanyang ganda,
Lagi nalang sa kanya ang aking mga mata.

Ang ibigin siya’y isang bagay na bawal,
pagkat posisyon ko’y pwedeng matangal.
Ito’y aking gagawan ng paraan.
Kahit ito pa ang batas ng paaralan.




Tinataguan ko ang aking Commando,
Upang makipagkita sa giliw kong CO,
Tinutulungan din ako ng kaibigan kong pribado,
Na umiibig naman sa isang pinuno.
                                          

Bakit ganito nalang ang pag-ibig,
Palagi nalang may humahadlang sa paligid.
Hindi ba nila alam kung gaano kasakit,
Ano ba ang kanilang naiisip.


Ang pamumuno ko ay pansamantala lamang,
Ngunit pag-ibig ko sana’y walang hanggan.
Huwag sanang masira ang ating samahan,
O Aking Joana, hindi kita titigilan.
*this Poem is written in Filipino
Lawrence Hall Sep 2019
Beating the Gums of War

                   “Hell hath no fury like a non-combatant”

           -this phrase, attributed to many, dates back at least to the    
                                        American civil war

Channeling John Wayne, their semi-autos on show
Leather-boy bandoliers draped with lots of ammo

          Hell hath no fury like a deer-stand commando

Old men beating their gums for war; oh, yes, it’s so
Each wearing his made-in-China camouflage chapeau

          Hell hath no fury like a café commando

Idle hookah heroes in Houston, don’cha know
Want their country liberated but our children must go

          Hell hath no fury like a narghile commando

Studs at their ‘puter games, screens all aglow
There’s nothing about George Patton that they don’t know

          Hell hath no fury like a keyboard commando

And corpses for the lamps of China to make the oil flow
They want your child to die for profits – just tell ‘em to blow

          Hell hath no fury like a private-jet commando

None of them made the first day of boot camp, oh, no
Though their thousand-yard stares are perfected guano

           Hell hath no fury like a ‘way-back commando
And no one follows Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution. C'mon, Congress, do your job instead of just bellyaching about each other.
Muted Jun 2018
on a crisp, clean morning in the fall of 2008,  i was happy.
i walked to class, textbooks in hand.
I could almost feel the earth shifting underneath my combat boots.
I was excited to showcase my new haircut,
reaveal my new and improved self to the world.
I'll never forget when the handsome, bright eyed boy who sat behind me in first period called me a d*ke.

You see, from the very beginning, I was taught that having a ***** made me
just a girl.
Made me just a maid,
just a cook,
just a someday wife and mother,
just a dainty, pink ribbon,
just a punchline,
just an orifice,
this
is an ode to the parts of me
that no soul has ever truly desired to understand.
this is working just as hard as a man.
this is ******* with the lights on,
assuming my position,
stepping away from the kitchen.
this is burning my big girl ******* and going commando, instead.
this is scrubbing his DNA from my body and reclaiming it.

When you exist in a world
where you are instructed to keep your mouth shut,
your strongest desire is to open it,
as wide as a cavern.
Here, where we are told that we
think too much,
feel too much,
love too much,
we long to be enough.
this is being enough.
this is learning to love myself unapologetically.
this is finding comfort in my body,
despite all of the glass shards
i find myself plucking from it.
this is loving myself into
an ******, so heavy,
that it makes me feel
like a *****
is the most profound thing
a person can have.
eileen mcgreevy Apr 2010
Of all the ****** that i like,
The best would be of lace and white,
But then again, there's so so much,
There's even knickers with no crotch!?,

Those little bras for beginner *****,
Or leather gear, for naughty moods,
And not forgetting Bridget Jones,
Come on girls, we've all got those ones.

Those yummy corsets **** us in,
We'll shake our hips and bear a grin,
To tantalise and tease men so,
Our ***** with tassels on, so guys can, ahem, grow.

Those fishnet stockings cost a bomb,
But ladies, that's why we put them on,
We feel so ****, and so do they,
So that's why we get them to pay.

Silk and satin, black or red,
Or going commando instead,
What then girls, do we love these things for,
Because they'll only be scattered on our bedroom floor?...
This is our blitz, puppydog, I said,
dragging him away from the whizzbangs
echoing green and purple off shopfronts.

My Chuchundra scuttled ground-bellied
from fallen ******* bags spilling guts
like casualties of war

and hoodlums tremendous in commando gear
who set off peonies and chrysanthemums
before charging triumphant down alleyways.

We go home.  I’m happy to leave these heroes
the soda from the Catherine wheels,
and the drizzle, for which London has yet to apologise.
eric smith May 2019
guilt me like a cancer
manipulate me like a taurus
if i was the first verse, you’d skip to the chorus
i tape glue and sew but you’re the one who tore us
ripped me into pieces and i made myself
something new
i recognized myself
you’re lost not knowing what to do
play dumb like a pisces and lash out like a scorpio
if you’d give me up for anything
it would be half an oreo
maybe four quarters or a dollar
but you could never change
had a heart for everyone but i was never in your range
impulsive like an aires confusing like a gemini
you my day 1 and i love you turns into there cant be a you and i
you “never wanna make me cry” but can never keep your **** dry
eyes red like im high
you “never want to say goodbye” but the second things dont go your way you fly
but you could never be the bad guy?
act out like a capricorn stubborn like a leo
how you beat yourself up but wanna be everyones hero?
your double life is really a triple
i should call you trio
if ‘paid in full’ was my life you would be rico
how my own girl crossed me?
then made it my fault that she lost me?
then told everyone she tossed me?
don’t care like aquarius outted me like a libra
you beat around the bush when i made it black and white like a zebra
how i told you tell me the truth and you made up a story
you cant lie on someone who loves you
and bask in glory
i paved the way for you and you act lost like dory
and i still found you
careless like sagittarius critic like a virgo
how you tell me to “never leave” but you go?
how you use the water you drained me of to grow
you’re not who your instagram shows
i see through you, commando
you cant flex on me if you know what i know
imagine believing in horoscopes. couldn’t be me.
(added) Prologue: "we'll get the baron, i swear. the ratings will go through the roof..." nick spoke nervously into the phone he held in his good hand. the other rested at his side, burned beyond use. one of the commandos whispered in his ear. "sir, we have his location.... yes... yes sir..." he hung up the phone and turned to the commando, "scramble the troops, we're going hunting..."


"N-no... not this again..."  Baronyx muttered in his sleep. "I wont... i wont do it..." it was the same nightmare that had plagued him for years. he was what the Two-legs called an Exotic, one of the few hundred dragons left in the world, and a showpeice for the high paying two-legs.
Baronyx had been captured once and forced into slavery as a circus act and performer for many years before he escaped and burned an entire city with his fiery wrath, killing some ten thousand two-legs in his path and sending a message, "don't cage a dragon..." ever since he had been plagued with nightmares of his experiences while enslaved. "stop... No!" he ****** awake and roared in fear. the full moon's light shone on his sapphire scales and temporarily blinded him until his green slit-eyes adjusted. his mate, a green scaled dragoness named Lyra licked his cheek and put a comforting claw around on his shoulder, "its the dreams again, isnt it ***?" Baronyx nodded and stared outside of their cave den.
He glanced over his shoulder at his daughter, Tali, her young yellow scales getting a tinge of green. Baronyx sighed and said, "she's growing so fast... she'll have your scales..."
Lyra looked as well, "and she'll have your eyes, baron." they watched their child sleep a moment longer before Baronyx stood and stepped outside the den. "i'll be right back." lyra nodded and lay back down with her eyes closed. he spread his wings and with a powerful downstroke took flight. Baronyx closed his eyes and glided into the wind currents and to the cliffside where he went to clear his mind and sort out his thoughts. his claws clicked across the hard rock as he landed and tapped rhythmically as he walked to the edge of the cliff and hung his claws off the side. a wild wolf howled in the distance somewhere behind him. something in the air was different tonight and Baronyx felt uneasy. he lay his head down and snoozed for a while, oblivious of what was happening at his den.
- - -
Tali screamed as
Two-legs with metal-spitters swarmed the den and threw heavy nets over her and her mother. "ma! ma! whats going on?!"
"tali! just stay calm.. just stay calm." Lyra roared in protest as the two legs brought lightning-sticks and began prodding at them. "don't you dare touch my daughter you *******!" she shouted even though she knew they wouldnt understand her. to her surprise though, one two leg stepped forward and said, "we won't touch you or your daughter if you tell us where the Baron is."
"i'll never tell you, monster."
the white man chuckled, "from my point of view, you're the monster. and you'll be a wonderful addition to the show..."
- - -
Baronyx heard tali's scream echo In the dark forest surrounding the cliffside. "No!" his roar resonated farther than tali's scream.
at the den a few moments before, the two-legs had caged Tali and Lyra and had set about stabbing at lyra with the shock-prods hoping to draw Baronyx back to the cave. Lyra kept her cries quiet and had refused to satisfy their wishes. the two-leg in charge snarled. "Enough... last chance, dragon. Tell me where he is!"
lyra growled at him, "i'll tell you nothing, worm."
"fine, suit yourself." the man turned his back to her. "lets see if you're daughter has the same resolve, shall we?"
"no! don't touch her!"
"i'm afraid its quite too late for that, dragon."
"tali i'm sorry!"
he turned to Tali and jabbed her in the side with a shock ****. tali groaned and gritted her teeth but did not scream for the man.
she growled at him said, "that tickled." tali grinned at the man with her sharp fangs fully exposed.
the man glared for a moment and then smiled cruelly.
"temporary pain doesnt have an effect on you... maybe something more... permenant will bring him to me. bring the iron!"
two-legs carried a white hot brand in the shape of a greek Omega. the man pointed to tali and said, "on her throat. make it burn."
more two-legs had muzzled lyra to keep her from screaming. the iron cut into tali's scales and burned into the flesh underneath, forcing tali to scream as loud as she could, even after the iron had been taken away. she collapsed on the ground and the tears spilled over her eyes as she continued to scream.
they heard a roar passing over them all as Baronyx rushed back to the den.
"well done, everyone. the prize is near. get your guns ready but DO NOT FIRE!"
* *
baronyx flew faster than he ever had before. he growled  as he swooped down toward his den and saw the two-legs. he screeched in protest as cables wrapped around his wings and limbs. forcing him hard into the ground. "Nick you *******!"
the white man grinned, "so we finally meet
Again, baron. and you have a nice little family i can use to my advantage now."
baronyx looked at tali and Lyra and loosed a mournful moan deep in his throat. "what do you want, nick?"
the man stepped forward and replied, "i want you, back in my show, just like old times. or i'll torture your mate AND this lovely little child of yours. sound like a deal?"
baronyx shut his eyes and nodded as a tear trailed down his cheek. "just know... when i get out, everything will burn... just like old times..."
(add on 1)
The white man and the other two-legs shackled Baronyx and his family with heavy chains and electric collars that would shock them randomly. they were put on a train car headed east and the collars were taken off. Baronyx immediately examined Tali's neck, the brand already scarring over in a whitish pink Omega. tali's voice was hoarse and tears came to her eyes. she buried her head into her father's chest. "i'm so sorry tali, lyra... this is my fault.." the family embraced as they knew there would likely be very little contact with each other after the train stopped.
the train traveled a little while longer and the family shakily said  their goodbyes as the air brakes hissed violently. the doors shrieked open and they were met by Nick. immediately. baronyx pounced on top of him and roared. they stared eye to eye for a moment before they heard the clicking of the two-legs metal spitters. baronyx kept his eyes on Nick and said quietly, "touch her again... touch EITHER of them... and
I swear, no amount of metal spitters or electricity will stop me from hunting you down and tearing off your head."
as baronyx stepped back, nick stood up and replied, "i won't harm either of them, hell, i'll give them whatever they want, as long as you do as you are told, Baronyx."
baronyx thought this over and after a few moments said, "i have one more condition, i want full access to them. whenever i choose."
nick chuckled a bit, "we'll see... we'll see... it all depends on how you perform."
baronyx nodded. "then lets get this over with..." the white man beckoned some two-legs to lead Tali and Lyra to the cages inside the massive pavilion that stood before them. two of the men brought the brand again and put the Omega on Baronyx's throat much like they had done with tali. he gritted his teeth and let the tears come but did not cry out or roar. when the pain had subsided, he asked nick, "when do i start?"
nick looked up at him with a sinister twinkle in his eyes, "right now."
*
Nick and a handful of two-legs escorted baronyx back onto the train, but not the same traincar. this one was blue and had ornate gold lettering on each side. once baronyx was inside, a string of lights came on and he saw his old armor plates each polished and the dents pounded out. he took his helm and stared into his reflection.  "i swore i'd never touch this stuff again..."
an intercom system beeped above him and nick's voice filled the car. "Baron, you have five minutes to suit up. the game starts as soon as we arrive."
baronyx sighed and donned the cold armor one peice at a time. he looked into the mirror on the wall and turned away in disgust.
"for tali and lyra..." there were a few peices left, the ones he never wanted to see again, they were sharp talons that fit over his claws. in the show, he had to use these to **** his opponent. nick's voice came over the intercom again, "arriving at the arena now, the press is fired up for your return, baron. DON'T disappoint them."
Baronyx growled and said a silent prayer for his family. the train screeched to a halt and the door opened. baronyx stepped out onto a black carpet and was assaulted by blinding camera flashes and the deafening roar of the crowding two-legs. over the crowd, an announcer shouted, "Its the Baron! he's back and looks better than ever!"
baronyx kept walking until nick stopped him for the game briefing. "you'll be going up against a group of wyverns, so you should have no problem killing them." the wyverns far outnumbered the dragons, wyverns being the dragons' slightly smaller, less intelligent cousins.
nick began walking away when baronyx asked, "what do they get if i win?"
nick turned, "they?"
baronyx bared his fangs. "my family. what do they get in return for my win?"
nick thought this over for a moment before replying, "they will eat, sleep, and live in their own hovel. and depending on your performance i'll let you stay with them."
baronyx growled, "then lets get this over with."
*
Baronyx was led to the arena doors and he waited patiently for his introduction and call to the game. he looked around at the all too familiar sights, the fight screens, the scoreboard, and the dim light that would signal his entry into the arena. it would be a few minutes before the match and in the meantime, he thought of all his old strategies and gameplans. "i wonder if tali and lyra will be watching..."
nick came out of the shadows and said, "remember, their future depends on what happens next."
the light turned green and the doors opened, spilling light into the room. when baronyx's eyes adjusted, he saw the all too familiar sight of the ****** arena, mangled corpses being dragged away from the last battle. "the baron! he'll be going up against seven wyverns from the northwest territories." baronyx roared as loud as he could as he stormed into the arena. the wyverns on the other side cowered for a moment before charging him. the first one lunged at him and was caught in his
Claws. baronyx looked into the wyverns eyes and saw the fear, the terror of a beast facing his own demise. "for them..." baronyx tore the wyvern's throat out with his claws and threw the body at the next assailant, bowling him over.
the next wyvern was impaled by baronyx's tail and tossed aside to bleed out on the ground while he set about killing the others in various other ways. when the bodies stopped twitching, baronyx's armor was coated in blood. the crowd was silent and he became worried. he looked to the trainer's balcony and spotted nick, who gave a subtle nod of approval. baronyx looked at the timer: one minute seventeen seconds. it was a new record, the shortest match in history. the crowd roared and applauded long after he was led out of the arena. "an amazing, record setting performance by the returning champion, the Baron!"
baronyx was met by the press' cameras outside the arena. Nick's two-legs stripped the ****** armor and allowed him some room to move around.
The camera flashes continued to blind baronyx but his mind was elsewhere. nick finally showed up to answer the press's questions, while baronyx glared at the group of reporters. after an hour of questions and his agitation reached its breaking point, baronyx growled at the reporters, silencing them. when they didn't move, he bared his fangs and roared, forcing them to make hasty retreats and fleeing the conference. once they were gone, nick turned to baronyx and sighed, "thanks. i thought they'd never leave..."
baronyx stared down at him. "we had a deal."
"so we did. and for that breathtaking performance, you will stay with your family in their hovel."
baronyx started walking towards the train, "then i have to go."
*
Based off of a poem i wrote earlier.
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Her fourteen days $?..........&

And what? And I am losing
some attachments
And____

is this our way
We should say is this my end today
My salvation
(Losing) wed long train
of thought
(Religion)

One day before
She screams!!
Such finesse of refinement
We all fall down 
Like children
of the **** torment
Statues the transformation
so real
Carve the deal on the 13th

Like the Gal Friday
battle Tut
masked out the
Halloween taking
out their spleen

Statuette Tut of
the jurisdiction
The fourteen karat teen
gold doesn't put a hold on me

How our minds
became off-set

My blocks are the key
to his heart mindset
The trade of the marks
her freedom
Her lips
quite a
surgery can blow
those bricks
down like a bullet

How it out knocks singing
over again
we all fall down
like ashes remain

Oh! Gee  V for Victorious Glee

How he couldn't pass
this
opportunity
deliciousness,
divineness
because of me,
there I went to the silent hill
The tranquil of quietness
Her weapon
the bullet dress - --
The coffee in the
King Tut shape
The curvy glass

Like a desert storm fires
Going First class

Not a block party second in mind
          "He" King Glee
Behind her walls, he reconstructs
Cheers of joy bullets one of a kind
Like a setup ploy
Her body fine weight
of gold
Eyes almond he's my candy
Second chances of joy
Her third timeless so hot
Is "She"
He's trying to nourish her heart

"With Glee"

Those love instructions
Like a bullet for me?

The King Oh! Gee

The Queen you
had to see
Like the golf clubs to putter set
The ball whole cup
The whole process stayed put
She was so enticed by his
bungee climbing
Seeing his first shot shooting
wasn't a star

The bricks to the end of the war
Judy the Star was Garland found
a different  time of Era la boom
reborn lady Liza Minnelli

The Empire of the Tut
(Bali Island Hut)
Her best to the
last stone paver layers
Like a Tut mortal dreamers
On her deck Golden Egg cards
King on top of the Queen
blocks bam the bomb ticks
The Joker having his last laugh
The war of fidelity like a plaque
of immortals
"And Please God' let it be over

You're my lucky star
No matter where you are
The ancient portal sip of wine
"All Glee" smile to trust
Come attached with loads of funds
His attache case modernly- eyes dim
Cashed into her twilight blank stare
Head over heels digging underneath her
gold - heavy heart and mind spins
into a migraine

His prayers are working
constructing a force
Something is emerging
racing for hearts
Engaging the space of valuable
objects of time

  We heard of the
one-day creation
the mysterious temple
Kinksters my heroes our fellowman
To the hipbone, those hipsters stick
  together to hustle

She is trying harder to please him
The gold to be seized
Thousand times over
to build
a form of loves the golden touch

The building could collapse
Heart together can relapse
If her love doesn't stand tall
The darkness can come to her eyes
The death of cards handed
like her corpse flying bullets

Such a massive stone block
She loved to be entertained
Let me make you walk my path
Solid as a rock

Like the Sun Gods map like the
Egyptian cat tongue
The strange pharaohs ancient
stolen identity
Layers and layers
Trumpet tower Presidential
Her bullet racer tulips
Lips bloom with gravity
900 feet getting a grip confidential

The ruins the strange existence
every time will there be next time
The new technology reveals
more secrets one bullet at a time
A silver bullet doesn't
compare to her myths Antionette


Her Anniversary all in gold,
to be or not to be
The silver award bullets
His mighty treasure
for poems of the sonnet

The largest space to build
in Egypt
Look up its a plane
King Tut bird
Super bullet giant beams
Going once or twice
70 Ladybird feet
Pharaoh timeline
so many wives

The column layering
checkerboard
She the sweeter cake
Had life sliced itself

Her layers the feed
of his smorgasbord
The name Ramesses 11
To reveal the evidence
stolen identities this
wasn't the (Providence)
Laying bricks in
my stone bed
Like a heart of stone

Building a gold his
mind like a block-freeze
It will take lifetimes
Marlon "Brando"
The commando of the waterfront
try to be upfront
It felt like a hard cement

Two bricks intellectual speaking
The goldrush her heart racing the
bullet of time
So thick-headed 
The Queen just sit
beheaded

The golden bond have
  guns will travel I Glee I pads
  The speed of bullets meet
my heroes what lads
The kingdom was
holding women
Joy to the
tacky glue magnet

Not the carnival of
cotton candy soft gold
The King got his ladies like
The Funhouse King Tut
no detention to have
Like the speed of lightning
never to hold
More love to build intermission
The kings only private
Gold VIP Theatre

All smiles the build-up
   Another mysterious setup palace
Those bricks of brown
warmth orange-reds of fire leaves
Falling over her milestone of
Mink hair
the fairytale of
Rumpelstiltskin
 Are we in to know
  what really clicks

More layer and layers of her
goldilocks of hair 
 stronger than any bricks
King Tut Biblical time so sublime we all need more time the  war of gold roses those statuettes all bricks and give peace  a chance at a glance get a second chance  were the world it's hot and cold you got to have a voice a mouth like a bullet it's your choice
Harsh Nov 2012
It all started with mixing Tequila and Sambuca last Friday night.
Then I noticed him, busting some classic moves on the dance floor.
Soon we are dancing, grinding, kissing, laughing, dancing, kissing,
he's even drinking out of my half finished cup of water, he's smiling.
"I'm a Royal Marine, not an Army boy!" he corrects. "A Commando."
We both even have the same phone! Coincidence? I don't think so.
Beads of sweat dripping from his hair onto his flawless face and neck,
yet, he smells oh so divine, "it's Gucci Guilty Intense", he explains.
I blurt out, "Hope this won't be a waste of your time, 'cause I'm not
going to sleep with you tonight!" He says, "All right", and smiles.
Mixed signals, cold bed phobia, pure drunkenness combined,
I offer him, "It's late. You can spend the night at mine, I don't mind."
"Just Scott, you won't remember the rest, it's long and complicated",
later he adds, "Good luck trying to find me without my name!"
"I'm Twenty One." "That's so young", I exclaim and he frowns.
He's cocky yet witty, and also very pretty, so I let my dignity drown.
Taking him in my mouth until he explodes like a loaded gun,
my duty to the nation's hunkiest hero was well and truly done.
"I joined two days after my eighteenth birthday", said he with pride.
"My vacation's over. I'm leaving on Sunday to Poole". I sighed.
I spent the entire night insomniac, with my head throbbing to the beat
of his obliviously, peacefuly sleeping exhaling and inhaling speed.
Close enough to feel the heat of his body, yet a million miles away,
him dreaming and I reminiscing, both awaiting the dawn of a new day.
Skipping the "thank you", "goodbye", hug or phone number, he says,
"See you around maybe", holding a rather deceitfully seductive gaze.
"Scott, we're never going to see each other again", I answer bluntly.
Mirroring my sad smile in reply, minus the sadness, he left promptly.
This poem is the sole property of me and cannot be copied or used without permission. [Copyright G.H. Rodrigo 24/11/2012]
Billy wore his shirt too long.
And was told by most that the thing smelt wrong.
Years went by without a clue,
For the facts that others knew.
One day, while dropping the Huxtables off at the pool.
The boy realized the back of his shirt was covered in stool.
Turns out the fabric kept getting entangled.
Leaving the shirt toxically mangled.
He’d gotten caught up in the t.p.
Leaving streaks for all to see.
Billy wore his shirt too long.
Leaving poo smears from wiping wrong.
“http://articles.latimes.com/2013/jan/08/entertainment/la-et-mg-al-roker-pooped-pants”
Robin Carretti Feb 2019
Jeweled.. map... talk
Wipe her... teardrops...
He summoned her
      Braveheart
"The Hipster" starry eye
Commando Chief
Trampled the hot item
       help!!
*     *     *    
 Rubies in the Paradox
Pep-talk thief Fox
     *     *     *    
Red Rhapsody
Hey, Buster, on the
Tip of the "Ice Queen"
"King Speech"
Her lips
Practice what your eyes
Preach whats inside his lips

Lip marooned force
Afterfight doomed

      "Divorce"

He tapped took a bite
  So vamp lit her lip
Apple stumbles
Mr. Cobbler
Lips got caught to be
crumbled

Clicks movie flicks
     *     *    
Physiological College of chicks

On her Demon laptop lovesick
Sisters of the Sentinel
Fingers clicking like quicksand
  Ancient lips  touch the shadow
Of his smile
Does anyone have a
soft spot for *Angels


The psychotic broken wing on the verge

The lip pledge Demon
Give him a shot lip
bullet glass
"Red Electricity" he smiled
Certain lip she deserved
The floppy disk
Sweet breath
His baking whisker's

Those baby boomers
Top of the lip rumors
the right kiss
"Emmy" Jet set trips
Their chattering lips
Niagara falls duty calls
"Lip Shoutbox"

Her lips touched on
A nerve
schemingly

He blew up like the
Cherry bomb we will
succumb dreamily
Could blow his
lips down
How she wore the
red velvet bustier
A+ lip magnet

He's the connoisseur

La Luna melancholy
"The World Is Dying"
No apology

The symphony in line
With the lip up
His chin down is lying
But when your smiling
A poem knows what your
lips are saying  
Are you in way too deep

Lips like cold cuts the
paparazzi mob sheep
The movie cut Deli line
Race her the Italian
Mazzaratti be mine
Demon jungle no plain
Jane's lips
Hurry up your highness

lost his taste for goodness
Do angels die her lips went_?
Angel confession another
revelation
One lie please "I am the Angel"
we never live to die
This is a fantasy story about Demons and Angels what kind of lips do you have are they divine do you over talk your stay does your lips love to play too much coffee and red demon talker in your words release it fly like hummingbirds birds are the word and lips will never be absurd they are Godly
Jolan Lade Sep 2018
I'm born into ashes and grown up in fire
I'm raised wearing a mask and have developed my own casque
Trying to perfect the impossible and achieving what you require
I'm raised to believe in realistic ambition and repeating manque
I'm done, now standing with my back against the sun, ignoring your commando
Now looking deep, and lost into my own shadow.
no gold
Lawrence Hall Dec 2018
If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then candidates would have to pay a fee
Each time they appeal to the glorious past
When standing for the election, the proceeds
To fall like ****** weregeld on the dead
Who can never cash the checks anyway

If wars were subject to a copyright -
Then Hollywood movies should pay their dues
Whenever a bold, scripted commando,
Body-waxed muscles glistening with makeup,
Advances up Hamburger-Helper Hill
With a patriotic song on his lipstick

If wars were subject to a copyright –
The generals’ memoirs, the admirals’, too,
Would pay to lighten the blighted young lives
Of soul-fragmented lads whose pain and blood
Won the air-conditioned another star
And unctuous applause at the officers’ club

If wars were subject to a copyright -
The President would have to pay his bill
Each time he bangs the lectern for a war,
That glorious dux bellorum dux-ing
From the rear, while a squadron of pigs fly
Above, powered by pixie-dust and smoke
"(Newark, New Jersey) hath no fury like a non-combatant."  

The phrase is said to have originated during the American Civil War.
Matt Bancroft Feb 2013
Six or seven women ranging from thirty to sixty
stand chit-chatting in a somewhat-circle outside the State House.
Slowly, they dry their skin and dye their hair in the smoky sunlight
of the morning break; taking their time off with each long pull and curl.

A light skinned black woman dressed in navy sweater and
pinned with power star speaks to the group.
Deep inside her lungs a road is being paved.

You can hear the tremble of the rollers flattening molten pavement,
the rumble of the endless packs of 100s of dump trucks
the wisp and rasp of steam, the cough and hack of working men who’ve spent too
much time paving roads.

I have never heard anyone say a word in the way that woman said that word
this morning. What was her tone? Condemning?

In her blue commando, she pointed right at me (without ever seeing me)
and said, “Us and our cigarettes...”
2cd or 3rd draft. what do you think about the ending? keep going?
ERR May 2011
The paint is chipping, the Christmas tree shutters hanging
Green on gray, brick stoop and twin column mouth
Opens to creaking stairs that made sneaking out commando work
My room made your favorite shade is gone, death to ugly orange
I used to think of it as my laboratory, safe haven for exploration
And abstract cultivation, I bled my innocence into the floorboards
There are still fist-sized holes along the stud that I detected
Remnants of the games I played and the four that I connected
The basement is still damp and dreary, the wooden cage for laundry suspended
At the bottom of a chute that you told me was the tomb of a curious girl
My weight bench, secondhand and mixed pounds with kilograms
Living in sin, vowed never to be defenseless training endless
The attic lends its hospitable hand to trapped bird and cobweb gems
Quarter-circle window kept by chain hungrily swallows smoke
Shelves packed so tight with yellowing knowledge and petrified wood
That if spiteful spark made love to
Musty air and
******* embers, I would never make it out
Déjà vu as backyard grass soothes badtripbitch with tingling tips
Of leathery flesh, ready to be buried and wormed in its bedbox
Overwhelmed like militia in failing keep against advancing hordes
Until nature’s handsome sprouts remind me life is beautiful, always
The trumpet vine grows hideous and spiny, roots reaching deep
Settles in its site and survives all assaults man-made
For a blink during the year its vermillion nectar tubes take flower
The hummingbirds find love outside my window in their bloom
Francie Lynch Jul 2017
Call us perverted,
But read on first,
Then, by the end,
After our verse,
Call us your worst:
***** old men, gutter snipes,
Lecherous gawkers,

Cause we gaze in wonder and awe
At girls from eighteen to ninety-five.
Don't step back and feign aghast,
Whisper covert tsks, and gasp,
What? Oh such ***** old men!
But we are most the same.

We don't ogle or use a scope
Waiting behind a bush at night,
Til the lights go on
Through windows known to be undrawn.

We don't visit public pools
With goggles and a snorkel,
That's just sick, that's not us,
Our admiration's not so twisted,
We grew up to respect the sisters.

We wonder at the parade of beauty,
So pleasing to our eyes,
They dress to allure
Younger looks,
They swagger, tilt and sashay past
With legs as long as trees,
No VPL to interrupt
The curving imagination.
Compare it to one window-shopping,
Admiring wares and worth;
But please, read every line I wrote
Before bellowing, Pervert.

If we were eighteen years again,
We're lads out plowing fields,
Sowing wild grains,
Reaping refrains of They're boys just being boys.

We had our ancient pleasures,
Still comparable to now;
The lushness of the ripened fruit
Hanging on the bough,
Is for younger hands, not ours.

The columned temples of runway models
With flying buttress thighs,
And the bull-frog fronts and volleyball stunts
Please, but we don't pry.

          (We're not a ***** grabbing lot,
          That's not how we usually talk,
          In fact I haven't shared these thoughts,
          I'm reluctant to do so now).

You know you can't blame us
For what a blind man sees;
The cleavage, high-slits and commando style,
The augmentations meant to beguile
Has caught us in crossfire.

The soft unbleached skin,
The ***** and the neck,
The falling, twirling tresses,
Grace the backs of backless dresses.
Wear grotesques to dissuade us,
To disapprove our ageless looks.

Our eyes don't linger on the bust,
We don't display old men's lust,
In fact we're rather obsequious,
To the point where we're air,
You'd not notice that we're there.
But we are, and we look;
And I remember what it took
To be young and on the hunt
For the Yeti, Loch Ness, or alien jump.

Don't tell your friends we're perverted,
Scurrilous id-focused men;
We're neither. We're average fellows
Watching from the stands.

Yes, our daughters are older than
The babes seen on the screens,
But that has naught to do with us,
We still think like eighteen.

We watch re-runs of Mary Tyler Moore,
Drink tepid tea with toast and jam
To the credits of The Golden Girls;
But when the grandkids come to visit,
We take them for ice-cream,
Or if I take poodle to walk,
They pool like thirsty fleas.
It isn't my intent to bait, but I have eyes to see,
Those girls somewhat eighteen,
Like to please by teasing:
     I really like your wire rims.
Their eyes grip, the wind flips,
Their hands soft and supple...
I'm at a loss-
What's a man to do-
Between forty and forever?

This reaper's aged,
The harvest's in.
The grain that bowed the straw
Has now been threshed,
And milled to flour.
Add heat to rise again.
Apology for aging men
VPL: Visible ***** line.
grotesques: gargoyles that don't spit water
JT-TJ Feb 2011
Have you ever seen someone go commando,

or O' natural underneath the clothing they wear?

When they bend over or squat down,

you see the crack of there *** all covered with hair.

And whether they buy there jeans with zippers,

or purchase them with a button fly.

If they ever forget to close the front,

it will give everyone a cry.


Now if you like to people watch,

the way I sometimes do.

Then this can be quite funny,

if it doesn't happen to you.

It can also be hysterical,

wherever you may go.

And when I saw it happen,

I laughed so hard that tears began to flow.
No town homes in my hometown
We throw up and we throw down
Drinks pour up, tears pour down
No outlet in this port town

Glass crumbs and shards
elephant-skinned sidewalks smeared with tomato paste
the streets remember
potato-tipped death machines
starchy falsetto bullets
the cracking
window
skull
smushy hamburger meat brain
meet bullet—meet steering wheel—meet
                                ster
e
                     ­                                                 o

my little brother stays in a shelter
on American and California
where babies
sit themselves
change
is a dollar short
and DST
stands for daylight shootings time

Grandfather time
please stroke your shredded wheat goatee just a little longer
postpone apocalyptic
soon the children will hop skotch on chalked body silhouettes
and jumprope with bungie cord intestines

But not him
my little commando
he will find a way out
depart from home plate
three strikes carved on a flaming chariot
soaring through the sky like barbasol jet streams
the great
                                                           ­          escape
John F McCullagh Feb 2015
In Atlanta Victoria is red faced, her secret a secret no more.
A shoplifter made off with her *******, merchandise worth an eye catching score.
How one shopper could nab all those garments- it simply beggars belief!
Her “Angels” will now go “commando” Unless someone fingers the thief.
The crook was observed on surveillance with stuffed shopping bags leaving the store.
She didn’t get Victoria’s miracle bras so police think she’ll come back for more.
This sort of heist has happened before, although, thankfully, it is still rare.
The shoplifter may be a black woman, but its certain that she has a pair.
A Victoria's Secret in Atlanta is out some $10,000 in merchandise
Styles Jun 2014
Bad girl attitude; going commando; skirt and open toes. Haters look – **** them hoes. Bad ***** and I’m on the go; Love him not; I know for sure. Rather be bad by myself; that’s for sure. Don’t need a man; just his credit card; Hitachi wand,  and a pack of Smores. She loves all types of fun, but loves their money more. After all, that’s what men are for. Try and use her for her body; jaws falling on the floor. Naughty little thing; crawling on the floor; touch her fur, and make her kitty cat purr. Spoiled herself with fun; always come back for more. She’s the one; ones scattered on the floor. Bad girls play around; good girls have way more fun.
Short
She was that kind of girl,
You know the type:
Stunningly beautiful,
With a very naughty mind.
Take the Trump women, e.g.
You just know they're thinking--
At least Ivanka & Melania, anyway--
You know'll they're thinking about
Jumping up on the table,
Sitting right down, spreading their legs,
Exposing a *****-less ******,
Going commando as usual.
Let's face it: they're East European foxes.
Their Bond chicks shaken and stirred,
Sultry, exotic, dangerous, divine.
Ivanka speaks: "Lick it. I know you wanna."
That's the kind of girl she was.
Gul e Dawoodi Dec 2014
A week ago you were here
Among us but we didn't know
with Ideas in your mind
You used to do sketching
You were the brightest student of your class
You loved to do photography
You wanted to be a SSG Commando
You had dreams too
You had aims too
You wanted to be a hero
So here you are now
The whole world knows you
As you can see from the heaven now
I don't know about others but oh my martyrs! You are my real heroes. We shall rise and shine again.  Your precious blood shall not go to waste.
- in the memory of victims of Peshawar attack.
Santiago Jan 2015
Todo lo ves rifando uno tres
Un padre entre el desmadre
El varrio de los pobres
Nunca tuvimos dinero
El meromero ser primero
Siempre seguir adelante
Controlando el bolante
No caer para ver mi progreso
Tambien aumentar el ingreso
No soy un pinchi menso
Porque que cres no me venso
Alcontrario con la mente yo pienso
Me voy recio miro hacia enfrente
Combirtiendome en el presidente
No son simple mentiras
Puro polvo es lo que respiras
Esclavitud es todo lo que tu miras
No lo cres en la noche sal y talves
Del mes ya despues de las tres
Muchos mueren otros pierden
La vida sigue rolando altanto
En las calles caminando
Soy commando con el mando
Con patadas te mando volando
A putasos y zintadazos
Te dejo tirado pisado a un lado
Carajo no sabias yo nunca me rajo
Te rompo las berijas y los labios
Te tumbo las orejas y manos
Pa que veas te quebro los dientes
No seas culo para que no mientas
Me aseguro que todo lo sientas
Te llene la frente de sangre roja
Y los ojos morados bien cortados
Hinchados como un pinchichango
Mi despedida sera mi ultima salida
Te lleno de plumas como gallina
Un maricon dejandote en el rincon
Llorando como la grand vieja
Te llamaran dona siega la ballunca
Que no se te cruze en mente nunca
Carlo C Gomez Feb 2020
There's a thin line
between simple
fashion faux pas
and the sin of visibility

She'd rather go commando
than be found out
hark! 'tis her own sisters
who will roast her alive
Sisilia Oct 2016
October 31. Halloween
A Celebration celebrated worldwide for children and adults to dress as whatever they desire and are free of judgement... of condemnation.
A night where the freaks hidden inside every '
normal' person comes out to play either;
commando,
or a zombie,
a damsel in distress or
might i add a naughty little schoolgirl..

An open invitation to ask strangers for candy,
a game to see who can collect the most......
Halloween is just a game that is just full of surprises aren't they?
Oh! Halloween is a night everyone looks forward too.....
the dead included
We like games too.

We, the ones who linger between realms awaiting trial.
waiting to be stationed into our eternal home a pick between;
a forever scorching, fire blazing hellhole or
forever be glistened by the almighty light.

On Halloween night,
we the dead are free to wonder back into the world we begged to leave
whilst upon the stars the judge laughs upon his throne at us,
knowing all to well we despise this place.

Mockery is a well known game,
played by many, deceived so many.
Even mortals shamelessly mock the dead and tease us with life
irony is they live for this very night
to dress up and be someone/something they desire the most.....
the things they so often remind thy selves are;
abnormal,
freaks,
an abomination..

For god so loved the world,
he gave his only son,
to prove that he can and could give and take life as he pleases
We 'freaks' learnt that the hard way..
Every Halloween the Gods are at play and so are the humans,
but never us.

We the ones the mortals fear
And the Gods personal entertainment.
These humans wonder off into the parade whilst we linger in the depths of the darkness
He told us as punishment we are to watch them parade about us
and celebrate the day of the dead,


He who looks down upon us cursed us.
To have a sirens call-
to lure them in,
sedating them with sweet nothings,

BUT only one rule applied to us all:
NO touching the one thing we freaks' all lacked; *SOULS

That's their sick,game
to tease us by gifting us to caress the mortals ever so slightly but nothing more....
'SADISM' is what we call the game in which Hades and the Gods play;
and us being the pawns.......

Well not anymore.
Not this time
No! tonight we will purge on whatever comes our way,
Sedating them with the curse of a sirens call.......
the one that the mighty gods has gifted us with,

Tonight we feast on what the humans are celebrating; DEATH.
No more hide and seek games, with the humans
No more cat and mouse games with the Judges
its our turn to give a good scare!
Tonight we play our own game,
We call it 'PEEK-A-BOO'!
'cause tonight we'll will give them one *HELL
of a Spooky night,
'cause we're coming for you!!!!!
Excuse the Halloween Puns :)
Aaron LaLux Mar 2017
Marley Brando

So many options,
can’t say too many options,
but honestly what do you do,
when even too much is not enough,

“What?”,

“Were you saying something?,
I feel like I’m in a dream,
I’m asking for affirming,
because I don’t feel a thing…”,

You stare at me with those infinite eyes,
“I feel exactly the same way.”,
then you shift your gaze,
and stare off for eternity,

as that fire inside keeps burning me,

something simmering inside is burning me,

anxious and pacing,
all out of patience,
feeling like a Patient in a ******-Ward society,
yes I’m fine so please don’t bother me,
I won’t sign over royalties and no I don’t need notoriety,

I’ll leave that for the words,
and all the flabby flack from the flock of ruffle feathered haters,
waiting in the wings I fly by & leave that for the Birds,
word word word,

words are what we scribe as a Writer of The Times,
words to explain when I’m gone,

words to explain when we’re gone,
when the memories have all faded,
because unless a Tyrant burns the books,
we’ll have our history scribed onto these pages,

lopsided but liberated,
feeling like a rat in a cage,
or a canary in a coalmine,
consumed with the thought to “Just get way.”,

just get away,
I’m already gone anyways,
don’t be fooled by this shell of a body,
I’ve been through Hell so now I’m in The Hills where I party,

Heaven can wait I’m on the Guest-List anyways so I won’t have to waste time at The Gate,

ready to party,
with Jim Morrison and Bob Marley,
and Brando but no Commando,
yeah I’m talking to you Sylvester sorry,

Charlie,
Chaplin for certain,
Sheen well we’ll see,
Janis, Jackson, Kurt and,
Pac and it don’t stop,

does it,
what’s in,
your wallet,
Rest In Peace,
Christopher Wallace,

smoking a chalice,
on Cloud 9 with Marley Brando,
cool as an Ice Cream Sundae,
relaxing watching the world go bananas,

B-A-N-A-N-A-S,

shout out to Gwen,
Steph,
I spin around and ask,
“What is this,
I meanI know it sounds cliche,
but does any of this really exist?”,

“Oh and where’d my mind go?”,

So many options,
won’t say too many though,
but honestly what do you do,
when even too much is not enough?,

“What?”,

“Were you saying something?,
I feel like I’m in a dream,
I’m asking for affirming,
because I don’t feel a thing…”…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

author of 3 #1 Best Sellers,
& The Poetry Trilogy

Okay Okay Okay, this one I can't say is a True Story... ∆
Matt Oct 2014
She has a pocket rocket
She keeps in her glove box

She drives commando
Red light stops are quite a thrill

She loves the idea of being caught
By someone in a truck
Looking down and seeing her pleasure herself

Naughty naughty fun
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2016
.at this point, in this particular instance, Kant's philosophy doesn't really matter, but it does matter for whatever particulars are left within it for the individual, rather than: labour freely, come and be bed entertainment compulsively sort of man... you can really listen of a psychologist talk, a philosopher will not talk, a psychiatrist will such listen and spoon you with pharma beige and bitter pills... or if you're lucky? porcelain and pale daffodil powder... never mind... the priest will spew his usual *******... the ******* will just construct an idea of a conversation with an O, an Oh-nomotopoeia... every woman is beautiful with eyes closed experiencing an ******... but these days Kantian philosophy isn't pop, thanks to Nietzsche calling the great sage of Königsberg an idiot... i never liked psychology... it was always too sophistry-riddled... rhetoric after rhetorical after rhetoric after rhetorical, yadda yadda yadda... regrets to fans of Nietzsche... i quiet like the the königsberg clock - disciplined man - people would wind their clocks when they saw him pass... and he went as far as 40 miles outside of königsberg... that's dedication... that's discipline... so watching this commando "vs." jordan peterson video... the "warrior-philosopher" mentality: sure... ever get taught martial arts by being kicked in the genitals by your tutor? oh yeah... that really makes you engaged in continuing the classes... a martial arts tutor kicks you in the *******: you become as much an enthusiast of the martial arts classes as a sumo wrestler would become on a vegan diet... "warrior-philosopher"... socrates pulled it off, but he was the one asking the question, not bloated in self-"awareness": the monologue... but socrates is a debate worth... or was he just lucky to have survived to ask the right questions? homer saw the battle of troy... and he was... a ***** poet... warrior-philosopher my ***... what are these, "current" wars about? they're about proxy... proxy wars are not worth fighting... iraq? proxy war. afghanistan? proxy war. libya? proxy war. one proxy after another... warrior at the gym... the actual warriors? on the other side? yeah: they don't gym bro... and they're not custard pie in the face mince meat cuddled together for a bicep... when wars made, sense... you'd get conscripted... but this current pro army classes, coming back into civilian class... oh what tales they must speak... warrior-philosopher mentalities gravitating their egos for a perfect psychology lunch... warrior in a proxy war? dog in a kennel... KA-GA-NIEC (muzzle - chomąto - horse collar - klapki - horse blinders)... i too might have been a... co-mann-do'h... kick in the ***** when learning martial arts? and no sorry? lying in a foetal position? women do that... i heard one story that a woman killed a policeman by kicking him in the testicles... but when a man does to a 15 year old? what martial art is there to learn? well there's only one "martial art"... kick every man in the testicles... for a man to do such to another man... the art became worthless in terms of a learning credibility... even in boxing there are rules about: below the belt... ******* western teachers of eastern combat... so i chose Kant... promenade of perfected timing... orientating himself like a shy sun to each and everyday... mind you: want to lose weight? two options... bicycle or swimming... or the gym: if you want to partake in plastic surgery from the excesses of skin... but exercise is so, so ******* mundane... you'd be better off chopping a tree down or mawing the lawn.

i don't want love to guide my way,
i've seen love being prophetic
concerning man,
and fill man with extinction,
but when i've seen the other card dealing
and have it filled with fear,
i felt a wizened presence of
either my self or god, and i don't
want love to guide my way:
i want fear to guide my treading missing
hoof trot, i want fear to guide me,
whether a fear of god or a fear of loneliness,
i want fear to empower me, for fear will,
i will not ask love for slaughter on the crucifix
i will not ask love for strength when love
gives nil, i will ask fear for all my coordinate
double denial strengths,
that whatever love comes my way
fears me not, even if i should be proud to deny it,
even if i fear it, make love not my guardian
my beacon, not my lighthouse or mountain,
let my guardian and beacon be the fear of constantly
wavering waves of the seas in the ***** of a hurricane:
and my halo will then replicate your ego
concerned with love, simplified by love unfelt
by me in your ideal of love thought: best expressed
by poetics of your kept gentle knees never knelt on.
Kant represented:        0 = negation,
ergo?              1 = sanction
   binary: yes no yes no no yes yes yes no no yes...
how simple: if not beside a coin-flip?
and the man isn't even recited that often
in modern talking points...
good: that gives me a head starts...
like a tortoise being chased by an Achilles...
i appreciate the fact that he's so under-represented,
denied access to a future (reading)
of his work...
  i love the sycophancy surrounding
Nietzsche: it appears that readings of certain
works have reached a cul de sac moment
of saturation, that...
what remains? are pedagogy rubrics of
regurgitation alligned to synthesis a priori etc.,
good to know, really good to know...
but now the intellectual output is not as
important as what the intellectual output
coincides with... i.e. the lived experience
of the thinger... the asceticism that
overpowered the aesthetic...
or rather... how a life dedicated to an asceticism
bore the fruit of an intellectual aesthetic
mostly associated with Kant.

— The End —