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marla Apr 16
This path on which I've come so far,
It has neglected my condition and left me tired.
The fire within is fleeting like a dim star
As these legs move like thinned wires.
Premonitions of the precognitive sort
Project into my dearest slumbers
To lend a communicative report
Concerning the sweetest of encounters.
But that future seems so far away
And my will to move forward
May waver towards the end of days.

Yet happenstance will show me my way,
She hardly leads the lost astray.
Wk kortas Nov 2017
Three days, is what the HR rep said, somewhat sheepishly,
As if she was fully aware that boxing up one’s grief
In a span of a few dozen hours
Is a matter of wishful thinking
And certainly she sympathizes
(Indeed, as she speaks,
She spreads her hands in such a way
As you half expect doves to come forth in full flight)
Empathy being their stock in trade,
But the law and the handbook say three days,
And then you need to have your head
******* back on and looking forward.

Eventually, the mail brings fewer envelopes
Marked with embossed flowers
And subdued and tasteful stamps,
The usual flow of solicitous inquiries,
Pre-stamped and pre-sorted,
Inquiring as to your credit needs,
The condition of your windows and siding,
Resumes apace, and more than once,
In fits of inappropriate black humor and frustration,
You scribble, in bold thick strokes of a marker,
The addressee no longer resides at this location*.

You return to nine-to-five,
Though your ghosts keep their own hours,
Stopping by to visit on their own schedule alone,
Prompted by the tiniest of things:
The dog scampering to its feet in a hurry,
As if someone was at the door,
The discovery of a long-unused pitching wedge
Standing expectantly in the back of the closet,
A song from long ago which was beloved
When you lived in the pairing mandated by Noah
Before you entered the shadow world of ones and nones.
Sometimes you give into the giddy madness,
And rise to waltz around the room,
Careening about unsteadily, clumsily
As you have yet to completely master
The difference in weight shift and distribution
That is required of a solo act.
The timing of these visitations
Often disrupts your schedule and sleep patterns,
And you think that perhaps tomorrow you’ll call in.
I remember when MTV was in its prime,
A new voice to represent the new boom
Babies growing up since the 80s
Louder still through the troubling decades
(Maxed out credit no head room)
After —the punks in nirvana and rapping clergy
It was the only channel on
Youthful rebel yell —honest news
I remember it pretty well
Shaping us generation x y and Personal Jesus
New wave good bye to when
Childhood then without pain of malnourished
Africa or nukes threatening our
Cruel summers
Were we happier then?
So what happens to the music
Rockstars rip van wrinkle
Geriatric hall of fame

(No one lives forever
Reruns with the ****** & mr. Ed
Now that old neighbor’s dead)

Seem more gangster
School shootings terrorists
On the train, kamikaze planes,
It’s all the same ole
Bling kablam oh bits
******* please
Redirecting our attention
Where the hells are we?

I remember back then
On MTV —Nicki Minaj says
Between the hysterics of police brutality
She said Happiness is living your life
Without struggle,
That stuck with me
Because we all watch the tube
We all search for meaning
Sadly defining what happiness
May look like
Real World and paradoxical reality
Para socially defunct
Conditioned to continuously
Stay tuned
Brief message of empty
Hypnosis a pure form of business
Wall Street
Boulevard of broken dreams
I want my

Happy. What do I mean
To be?
Life ***** lately
The human condition
Talking too much
Refusing to see
No more talking heads too much
Bla bla *******
I want my
MTV . Happy .
My generation
We are the world
freedom And yes, Peace.

Man kindly as one
And street, a melting ***
Of diversity

I remember the music
The future
I had hope to see
Behind the shades
Circa 80s 90s
What time is it then?
When will we

Don’t worry be happy
Run Forest run!
Natalie Apr 2018
In a day, there will be a ****** death.
A sorry mark of my womanness,

It comes like clockwork
To remind me of my waste.

I am a lukewarm pool
For leaves and tepid amity.

And this is just the monthly drain.
The condition sits well with me.

I am not ill, nor grossly deprived of love.
I am not drawn to that convention.
With the words that I speak
I conjure the joys of our youth— now past
Immortal on the condition of our delayed mortality
Emblazoned in the collective memory of our twin souls—
As my sight goes soft at the edges, tinged gold
Reality makes way— we advance into the void:
A cabin of logs, on a lilypad of golden light
Floats in the sea of the Ancestors, their august trunks
Shed snowdowned twigs for the Hearth—
Stones picked from the hillside, stacked high—
The fire is gentle, we warm our hands
And the light of the Ancestors spreads, makes shadows
On the walls, dispels the night’s cold darkness
There is warmth, and us, and home
Akemi Feb 2018
hole in the sky. tap tap, the empty vessel flows out. a weightless sink. the hour goes, blaring swell of humidity, and the jug lukewarm, leaven oft in the barred space. I return to my room. I drink the cold milk on the sill. I finish the third wretched spill of the journey to Olympus.

Downstairs a howl, a wind slam SOLOM OBSERVATIONAL MATRIX STRUCTURED TASKS AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY TO ASSIST WITH INSTRUMENTAL DECISIONS. I close the door I close the door I close the door I close the

In this uneasy slumber, the bed shakes, the windows rattle, the sky splits, the earth floods a red simpering capitulatory spasm of earthly flesh. Here is the circuit, the tired nervous tic of inaction, I shrink back from the outstretched hand, a condition which recommends two pills in the morning to mask the double image beneath my hands.

i have slept through the week again, this pathetic flesh obeys nothing, where are my pills inescapable ******* dullery

THE JUG IS HOT. I return to my room. I close the door two pills on the sill to go down with the milk


Figures muffled by the walls. There are guests in the house, the looming presence of multiple species with incomprehensible intentions. In a bout of uncharacteristic curiosity, I slip my sight through the crack of my door. UNDER RCG IT WILL BE MANDATORY FOR ALL CUSTOMS CARGO REPORTERS IN THE AIR SEA AND ROAD INDUSTRIES TO SUBMIT REPORTS TO SARS ELECTRONICALLY. I am unmoved by such perceptions. I prepare the final climb to Olympus.

the cyclone is ended. the front door is barred. the jug is cold. the yard is littered with unmoving shapes.
In this catastrophically worthless point of my life I find myself intersected by my failure to sustain a relationship, my alienation from left-wing collective politics, and my consumption of Faulkner and Ligotti, unto the birth of self-destructive pessimism.
julianna Nov 2018
The moon, again, is hollow
Like my bony wings
I will fly until tomorrow
And breathe in dust while I sing
The condition of this living
Can’t hold me back when I die
And one day I’ll finally wake up
And, with mine, see your eyes
I'm clever almost never
That's untrue, I am quite daft
I once came close to dying,
I got stuck under a raft
Sarcasm is my strong suit,
I use it when I can
This fact became a nuisance,
When I worked for Uncle Sam

In class I played the clown,
I was often tightly wound
Always acting out
The court jester to the crown
I know how this must sound
A rotten apple on the ground
Just don't beat me while I'm down
I might shock you with the knowledge
I still have parents who are proud

See, Im verbally proficient
Surprisingly efficient
I'd cast you out like bait
Cause I’d much rather be fishing
I'd cut you down with such precision
If this was my decision
Without any permission
I'd stitch up your incision
That seeps down in your torso
And turn it into a tradition

My verbiage is unrelenting
Savage and outstanding
There's thought behind my speak
I'm a primed linguistic freak
Destroying all on-comers
Feasting on the weak
Tiptoeing like a sneak
Subdued and quite discrete
Let's hope we never meet
If we do you should retreat
Along with your whole fleet
Like the shepherd to his sheep
Go on head back to momma
Continue ******* on her tete

You can't handle what I'm dishing out
It only adds to my mystique
I'm steadily reminiscing
Back to when Caesar led the Greeks
Conquering all his enemies  
Well established as elite

Your eyes were shaded by a vision
When stricken with a nasty condition
Embarking on failed missions
Should I even bother dissing?
All while leaving a lasting impression
On the mouth you never were kissing
To only end up missing
The target you were *******
Without help or assisting

From beginning to the end
I'm burning bridges I can't mend
Breaking all the rules no one would think to bend
Born to live until we're dead
No more all this wishing
That you were dead instead
Using the brains inside our head
And coming to a conclusion
Your brains' been underfed
Relying on the masses
To muster up intent
Resolving every problem
With a bandaid made of lead
Surviving on a crumb of bread
Its only temporary
A fazed out forgotten trend
Like disco and bellbottoms
Or mohawks and shaved heads

It's time we payed back our debt
Make sure the homeless are all fed
Put these issues to rest
Tucked away in bed
It's not time for story telling
The fairytales of past regret
Back before our needs were met
Finding solutions to our problems
We mustn't ever forget
More a rap than a poem. Had fun writing this
duane hall Feb 9
I pleaded with god to remove my cancer
I strained my ears but I got no answer
As the sands of time slowly ticked away
I knew the cancer was here to stay
I lived my life like there was no tomorrow
All it got me was pain and sorrow
"Your condition is high risk" the doctor said
"We should start chemo and move ahead"
Although it was totally against my will
I plugged my nose and swallowed this poison pill
As the life force slowly drained from my body
Depression set in like a thick fog  envelops a city
My body, mind and soul were down for the count
At that point I was ready to check out
As I held the gun in my trembling hand
It felt as if my entire being was mired in quicksand
At this point I heard this clear small voice
"This action is totally your choice,
Suicide is considered a mortal sin
You'll  just have to come back and do it all again!"
I often look back and think about that day
The day I almost gave my life away.
Sjr1000 Nov 2018
I've always been somewhat Autistic,
More than a little manic
I've had the fever
Occupying me

I've heard the murderous rage
And it was me

I have had my periods of Schizophrenia
Psychic warfare
in the ether

He's looking at me
I keep looking at him
Wondering why he's looking at me

I've got that DID
Going into trances
The poet he writes these tomes,
Waking up in strange places

Get startled very easily

Anxiety and depression
Are you kidding?
What's a day without 'em?

The vice is nice
Abundance to depletion,
The parking lot walk  
Polysubstance abuse
has had it's use

Fetishes phillias
Electric brain all light up
Run amok

Decades of misery
Decades of mastery
Had them all

A walking DSM
That would be me
Everything which is human inside you is inside me

Hanging out with
the human condition
my old friend and me

Trying one more time
to figure it all out,
one more time.
DSM: Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of mental disorders
Sleepz Dec 2013
The memories go through my head,
every single day, every single day.
In my mind i'm suffering,
In my chest i'm aching,
In my hands i'm shaking,
In my eyes there's a hurricane there's no control.
I promised myself i'd be there,
no matter what i'll let go of my pride i'll fight it away,
put it back in it's cage,
like a kid try to make it behave.
I shave my fears away,
and i do it everyday,
every single day,
my fears of being alone but i guess it's okay
cause you want to be alone.
I try to be there for you but i can't be there if you don't want me to,
I block you out of my mind,
I drink like i'm blind ad forget of the pain,
then when i notice the scar i remember what it felt like.
**** this **** is harder than i thought,
******* for not being ready,
******* for everything.
******* for the condition i'm in,
but i guess it's for the best,
and they tell me it's for the best.
I talk to you about it,
and you say it's for the best.
And the funny part is i won't be here when you finally decide you need me,
i'll be long gone, and my pride will take the best of me,
my pride will be my everything.
And my pride will bring tears to your eyes,
and with those tears i will tell you to make me a river
so that i can build a boat and sail far away from here,
my fear will be over then my hurricane will be home,
and you will be jealous of the fact that i have moved on,
and by the time you realize you need me i'll be far away.
My suffering has ended congratulations to me,
and one day i will come back,
and that day i will have made my plans,
I will tear you apart same way you did to me,
I'll make you fall in love,
I'll make you fall in love.
And perhaps my heart will still care,
but my pride won't bear to lose.
My Pride won't bear to lose.
And after all this is over,
you will cry yourself to sleep every night,
they will all ask you what's wrong,
and you'll tell them that i hurt you.
Your family will finally hate me,
you're sitting there wishing things were different,
wishing you could go back in time and take back what you said,
You'll hate yourself.
You'll hate yourself more than you already do.
And what if all this didn't happen,
we'll stay on the same chapter and this book will never end.
I will pretend to be your friend,
but just a friend who knows you both can't be together,
I will get tired, and i will hate you.
I'll find someone else who i can't care about,
and in the end, My Pride will be My Everything.
My Pride will be My Everything.
Steve Page Feb 14
The Son of Man came to seek
and to save the lost
to touch and to heal the hurt regardless of His personal cost

The Son of Man came to embrace
the human condition
without hesitation
He sat down in poverty
with those used to exclusion

He walked with the weak
and spoke with the ignorant,
putting up with derision,
He shared His wisdom
in the face of indifference.

The Son of Man came
to live and to give,
to love and to grieve,
to walk in scuffed sandles
to suffer blood blisters,
cuts and calluses.

The Son of Man suffered much
though He lived without fault,
He was a man well acquainted
with aches, tears, and snot,

with breaks and blood
and not a few bruises
and still He asked
with a death rattle gasp,

'Father, forgive my accusers.'
More than human.
T Feb 2017
A blank page, so much space to write everything that could be said
-- yet nothing should be.

Sometimes silence is the only true reflection of something that can't be bound by any combination of lines or sounds.
When words cannot give me the peace of defining that which overcomes me,
I fall into a void of dulled existence;

I call, crawl, scratch the walls of the mind that bound me.
My heart screams and breaks itself to free me.
I fall, lay flat on the back that carries me;
look at the walls that stare at me;
feel the emptiness of my own echo chamber.

I remember that I am not skin and bone,
that I am planets and galaxies;
that I am a universe imploding;
that heartbreak is a human condition and that love is a string of energy that binds our stardust particles.

I remember that everything is temporary, and I remember that you do not define me.
Sjr1000 Jan 13
When you are swept over by sorrow
And your night is forlorn
When your hours are reigning pain
My compassion will be there.

When everything is taken
And your attachments are all broken
And you've squandered your daily bank of seconds
My compassion will be there.

When rage and retaliation strike home
Alienation, isolation sings loud
When the thoughts are like a spinning whirling twisted train with the most perverse of engineers
And the tracks lead to endless night
My compassion will be there.

When love has slipped through your fingers again
And you're in the deepest hole you've ever known with only a shovel
And your fingers can't grip
And it can't be fixed without a ladder
And there is no ladder anywhere
My compassion will be there.

Whether you're too young or too old
Whether your world is
Expanding  or contracting
My compassion will be there.

Countless life stories
Many echoing rooms
The human condition played out
In infinite permutations
When I have nothing else to say
And nothing else to give
As best I can
My compassion will be there.
L B Mar 24
Betty Coutu drives a mean Rambler
takes us public school, heathens
to catechism on Saturday morn
Smokes a cigarette like a prima-ballerina
Shifts three on the wheel
drives that clutch to the floor
with her thick leg
Makes the engine roar
a little
“to warm it up”

Turns with the grace of swan
Pavlova or belladonna
Something of beauty
just to watch her
three-finger the wheel through a turn around
all while taking a drag
exhales to ceiling
to music on the radio
Elvis? Roy O, Patsy Cline
circa 1959
Betty's hair is short, uncombed
but she's not without lipstick
lights her smoke with amazing matchbook skills
like a woman who does it often
takes on wear
with I'm in love, and I don't give a care
She shifts and turns
cigarette balanced like gossip on lips
or between
those first two fingertips
Smoke swirling
amid kids squabbling and whining
in the back seat
No belts back then
till Dad got home
to keep them in line
But, I bet on Betty every time
to get us there
I want to drive like her, so badly!
I sit beside her-- ossified
her smoke and handle
like a total expert
I am distracted
and will surely fumble
my catechism answers
for the nuns

She drops us off by an icy foot slide
I swear to God to stop back later when we're done
...with prayer and penance  
recitation... and resolvings
to sin no more
Once we're out the door--

back to that forbidden foot-slide

Always had a plan for fun
So did Betty's son
the hemophiliac
Bless myself like an Olympian
and pray for Johnny
before he joins me for a run

a medical condition in which the ability of the blood to clot is severely reduced, causing the sufferer to bleed severely from even a slight injury. The condition is typically caused by a hereditary lack of a coagulation factor, most often factor VIII.
Lighting a cigarette from an old time matchbook while driving a standard shift takes some skills.  Betty was an 'effn ballerina at the wheel
Maniac girl Jul 2018
I am a kid,

Who was bullied.

But I didn't knew,

This is only a seed

Of my future grief.

I didn't pay any heed

To the matter.

My life was scattered.

From a happy girl

To the troubled one.

My bully were having fun,

By seeing me in an unease condition.

And then I lost my sanity,

For my vanity,

But i had a mask,

To complete a task.

Now in this new disguise,

Emotion was lack,

My heart was all black,

Peoples are only a gadget,

To achieve my targets.

I will win their trust,

And play with them

My mind game.

For achieving my aim.

Giving them pain

By the flame

Of my heart.

Behind my fancy mask,

I have no emotion,

Only dark passion,

You had buried

My all feelings.

And made me cold blooded,

Now There's not any healing.
Michael Marchese Jul 2018
Everyone dies
Story’s always the same
I just wish I could tell it
Some new, different way
To revivify life
With a vivid description
Instead of this atmosphere’s
Toxic constriction
Malnourishment kitchen
An infant mortality
Failure to listen
To self-absorbed, carbon-based
Standard emission
Way passed overfishin’
For likes on the social de-human condition
Automaton autobahn
Trickle down neocon
For-profit prison bomb
Boomin’ like radical
Islamic martyrdom
Unemployed masses
Of back of the classes
The masking of innocent
Voices in ashes
An **** of power
And greed wretches *****
Mother Earth out to fuel
Their big engines of war
An insatiable thirst for more
Curdled blood screams
As I rot to the Corps
Of America’s Dreams
Nat Lipstadt Apr 3
To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.

Think like a man of action, act like a man of thought.

The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.

The only cure for vanity is laughter, and the only fault that is laughable is vanity.

The present contains nothing more than the past, and what is found in the effect was already in the cause.

Religion is to mysticism what popularization is to science.

Spirit borrows from matter the perceptions on which it feeds and restores them to matter in the form of movements which it has stamped with its own freedom.

There is no greater joy than that of feeling oneself a creator. The triumph of life is expressed by creation.

Laughter is the corrective force which prevents us from becoming cranks.

Intelligence is the faculty of making artificial objects, especially tools to make tools.

**** sapiens, the only creature endowed with reason, is also the only creature to pin its existence on things unreasonable.

The present contains nothing more than the past, and what is found in the effect was already in the cause.

It seems that laughter needs an echo.

To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly.

When we make the cerebral state the beginning of an action, and in no sense the condition of a perception, we place the perceived images of things outside the image of our body, and thus replace perception within the things themselves.

The motive power of democracy is love.

Read more at:
4/3 /2019 8:55am
Esmena Valdés Sep 2018
We forgot.

We do not distinguish


m e m o r i e s

From ordinary moments,
we do not discover it
until later

b e c a u s e  o f  t h e  s c a r s.

Everything we said
will be corpuscles
scattered in the wind

a n d  you  l i k e  me

will forget.

I am tired
of looking a frozen sun,
of being an

e m o t i o n a l  n o m a d

of depositing

l o v e

in something that later
transforms into absorbed
thoughts and attitudes.

But this is my
and it is also

c i r c u m s t a n t i a l.
Dondaycee Aug 2018
I want to give love like I’m leading the Queen,
I want to feel hugs; photosynthesis, aura green,
I have to hideaway to three K’s,
Kyi is a kid that shuffles when he discovers key,
He is me; youth be re- I’ll let; tea… (*sip),

I’m so I’m so gene; us,
I only show frustration when we as a species let perceptions get in between us,
As if what we expressed daily was heterogeneous,
No need for mean mugs,
Mugshots when fetus,
Jesus is needless if we see our reflection as phoenix,
I’m not saying his teachings were meaningless but they mean less if it is hindering your freeness,
That type of convenience is something we need less,

My intentions are not to provoke but invoke our potential,
I’m not Pro in anything although I’m in everything,
I voke to our attention what I believe is essential,
Call it an expression of the ego, because it’s preferential,
If defined by actions, the ego is detrimental,
If defined by conscious; choice, that’s voluntary over involuntary,
Enjoy, we would; the state of being aware of thoughts that were brought by patterns that are the most influential,

I don’t want to be a resident in a place with a president,
Take offense, you may,
If I can’t speak a wave; transmute the word thought into the word say,
I give away my name because my expression’s never hesitant,
If that was the case, I wouldn’t be relevant,
Arrogance; my ego will second this,

To live and die in the A, because that A word is two cops before,
A kid claiming **** life at core,
Interpretation; fearless to explore,
But a perception created a door,
Honoring the fathers of four, his body hit the floor,
Questions arising; were the intentions backed by this illusion of war?
Discrimination? Advanced payments? The separation between the rich and poor?
Or, was this an obligation to bigotry, a resistance to change because the fear brings about the unknown?
“What if they evened the score?”
The question I’m asking is who’s suffering more,
Those that ascend because of freedom, or those who are reacting because they closed a door?

Tore, I am, because I can not condition this heart,
I can not serve all if all are torn apart,
We sung together as one, divided we fall,
The Beetles said come; coincided free fall,

United default, America was pre thought,
The idea would’ve worked if we brought, our understanding to one before we fought,
Liberty; she walked,
The people; we watched,
Identity; we lost,
A “VICTORY”; we thought,
History distort because his story, we taught,
Now distraught; resorting to love, because it’s the only thing that remained in gene as default…
Rakib Jan 4
Keeping in condition of the mind

What's real and what's kind?

Thoughts jumbled, feelings wide

I need to break free from this abide
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