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ATC Apr 2015
I wanted answers but all you did was kiss me.

I know that doesn't seem complex,
yet when the twin towers were hit the
conspiracies rose as the people fell.

Who was really in charge of all of this?

I believe that question belonged to both my
situation and the nation.

I thought to myself that you'll talk
and tell me about what was going on in
your mind and if you felt the same way.

But that was like hoping for a blind man to explain
the fear in the people's eyes as they
ran away from the city's blocks of smoke.

For a blind man wouldn't comment on what he couldn't see,
just how you couldn't see how much I cared about you
therefore you didn't comment
let alone compliment.

While they searched for bodies,
I searched for body language.

The aftermath of the towers falling resulted
with no air traffic for a week above the U.S.,
people reported that
the skies had never looked so blue.
I was told the same after the word
"us" had fallen.

I wanted answers but all you did was leave me
with conspiracies questioning if this end was planned.
kirk Nov 2017
The world is such a cruel place due to corrupt world leaders
1000's of innocent people have died because of those fat bleeders
Enforced False Flags and Cover ups all are rich men feeders
Fake terrorism and illegal wars corruption for war breeders
People believe in what they're shown coming from false pleaders
The public duped with news edits, paid actors and news readers
A life long race for world ******* for competing speeders
Those paying close attention the loyal followers and heeders

Roswell and Area 51:
For years its existence was denied they didn't want you to know
Did a flying saucer crash in 1947 in Roswell New Mexico ?
Where's the debris and Alien Bodies gone, just where did they go ?
Was there a Disc recovered by a ranch has it gone with the flow
Military Announcements of a flying saucer crash was this their woe?
Why was it suddenly a weather balloon was this all done for show?

What are the events surrounding Area 51 and the Roswell crash ?
Was there a second crash site, was there an alien body stash ?
Why did RaaF report a captured Saucer then its gone in a flash ?
Did the Deputy sheriff see a 100ft wide craft or was his claim to rash ?
Was an alien autopsy performed we're the Grays pulled from the ash ?
Maybe there's an alien conspiracy or is it political propaganda trash ?

JFK:
1963 in Dealy Plaza 22nd of November was the day
Shots struck John F Kennedy the President of the USA
An open top limo in Dallas is how they Murdered JFK
Gunmen and the Grassy Knoll was it a government betray ?
The Texas School Book Depository a scapegoat had to pay
Lee Harvey Oswald set to fall, could it have been the CIA ?

Moon Landings:
Where the moon landings faked in 1969 due to the space race ?
Was it really one giant step for mankind or was it a disgrace ?
If there was a lunar landing then why are there no stars in place ?
No crater was created upon touchdown in fact there was no trace
If there is no atmosphere how does the flag flutter in that case ?
Maybe it was a smaller step for man and filmed in a NASA base ?

9/11:
September the 11th 2001 was the day America cried
Innocent citizens where killed nearly 3000 of them died
The fall of the Twin Towers, where there ever planes inside?
Aluminium planes couldn't penetrate steel structures even if they tried
Is there more than meets the eye how much did they really hide?
Was this another false flag event when your own government lied ?

The attack of the World Trade Centre in god we did trust
How did 1,000,000 tons of concrete and steel just turn to dust?
Building 7 fell in 7 seconds a freefall with no hits or ******
Can we trust a government motivated by power greed and lust?
****** is not justified there is no need or must
Even if our world leaders think there is cause or just

Are aliens at Area 51 fake or are they specimens in zoos
I wonder if JFK was murdered for is own political views
Was the moon landings faked and filmed by TV crews
The sheer tragedy of 9/11 I wonder who lit that fuse
There are such terrible men who don't care who they use
All power hungry ******* who want to **** and abuse
The inside jobs and murderers with no regard for taboos
They don't care about the pain or any left over residues

From JFK to 9/11 is it a coincidence they where under the Bush Regime
George Bush was involved with both was it all done with Bush's team
Is George Herbert Walker Bush's memory loss really a blaspheme?
Why could he not recall his whereabouts during JFK's bullet stream?
His son George Walker Bush another from the Bush family ream
Was President on 9/11 his involvement is not what it may seem
What is it with the Bush family do they think they are supreme
Surrounding False Flags and Cover Ups that they can not redeem
It seems so strange that these events are based upon a certain theme
The death of the innocent and cover ups are all done to the extreme
Are False flag operations a rich mans trick to gain political esteem
Why are men aloud to rule the world when ****** is there dream
Are events manipulated to conform with the rich mans scheme
I'm not sure about how you feel but its enough to make me scream

Whether you believe the official reports or draw your own conclusions
There will always be conspiracies some doubts and also some confusions
Shadow governments and inside jobs are they just unjust solutions
False flag events and cover ups are they all government delusions  
Conspiracies and theories do you really think these are illusions
Is fiction mixed with fact so it looks different with inclusions
Do you believe in what you're shown even with edited exclusions
Are there False flags and conspiracies to create conflicting revolutions
Ari Feb 2010
there are so many places to hide,

in my home at 17th and South screaming death threats at my roommates laughing diabolically playing  videogames and Jeopardy cooking quinoa stretching canvas the dog going mad frothing lunging  spastic to get the monkeys or the wookies or whatever random commandments we issue forth  drunken while Schlock rampages the backdrop,

at my uncle's row house on 22nd and Wallace with my shoes off freezing skipping class to watch March  Madness unwrapping waxpaper hoagies grimacing with each sip of Cherrywine or creamsicle  soda reading chapters at my leisure,

in the stacks among fiberglass and eternal florescent lima-tiled and echo-prone red-eyed and white-faced  caked with asbestos and headphones exhuming ossified pages from layers of cosmic dust  presiding benevolent,

in University City disguised in nothing but a name infiltrating Penn club soccer getting caught after  scoring yet still invited to the pure ***** joy of hell and heaven house parties of ice luge jungle  juice kegstand coke politic networking,

at Drexel's nightlit astroturf with the Jamaicans rolling blunts on the sidelines playing soccer floating in  slo-mo through billows of purple till the early morning or basketball at Penn against goggle- eyed professors in kneepads and copious sweat,

in the shadow tunnels behind Franklin Field always late night loner overlooking rust belt rails abandoned  to an absent tempo till tomorrow never looking behind me in the fear that someone is there,

at Phillies Stadium on glorious summer Tuesdays for dollar dog night laden with algebra geometry and  physics purposely forgetting to apply ballistics to the majestic arc of a home run or in the frozen  subway steam selling F.U. T.O. t-shirts to Eagles fans gnashing when the Cowboys come to town,

at 17th and Sansom in the morning bounding from Little Pete's scrambled eggs toast and black coffee  studying in the Spring thinking All is Full of Love in my ears leaving fog pollen footprints on the  smoking cement blooming,

at the Shambhala Center with dharma lotus dripping from heels soaking rosewater insides thrumming to the  groan of meditation,

at the Art Museum Greco-fleshed and ponderous counting tourists running the Rocky steps staring into shoji screen tatame teahouses,

at the Lebanese place plunked boldly in Reading Terminal Market buying hummus bumping past the Polish  and Irish on my way to the Amish with their wheelwagons packed with pretzels and honey and  chocolate and tea,

at the motheaten thrift store on North Broad buried under sad accumulations of ramshackle clothing  clowning ridiculous in the dim squinting at coathangers through magnifying glasses and mudflat  leather hoping to salvage something insane,

in the brown catacombed warrens of gutted Subterranea trying unsuccessfully to ignore bearded medicine

men adorned with shaman shell necklaces hawking incense bootlegs and broken Zippos halting conversation to listen pensive to the displacement of air after each train hurtles by,

at 30th Street Station cathedral sitting dwarfed by columns Herculean in their ascent and golden light  thunderclap whirligig wings on high circling the luminous waiting sprawled nascent on stringwood pews,

at the Masonic Temple next to City Hall, pretending to be a tourist all the while hoping scouring for clues in the cryptic grand architect apocrypha to expose global conspiracies,

at the Trocadero Electric Factory TLA Khyber Unitarian Church dungeon breaking my neck to basso  perfecto glitch kick drums with a giant's foot stampeding breakbeat holographic mind-boggled  hole-in-the-skull intonations,

at the Medusa Lounge Tritone Bob and Barbara's Silk City et cetera with a pitcher a pounder of Pabst and a  shot of Jim Beam glowing in the dark at the foosball table disco ball bopstepping to hip hop and  jazz and accordions and piano and vinyl,

in gray Fishtown at Gino's recording rap holding pizza debates on the ethics of sampling anything by  David Axelrod rattling tambourines and smiles at the Russian shopgirl downstairs still chained to  soul record crackles of antiquity spiraling from windows above,

at Sam Doom's on 12th and Spring Garden crafting friendship in greenhouse egg crate foam closets  breaking to scrutinize cinema and celebrate Thanksgiving blessed by holy chef Kronick,

in the company of Emily all over or in Kohn's Antiques salvaging for consanguinity and quirky heirlooms  discussing mortality and cancer and celestial funk chord blues as a cosmological constant and  communism and Cuba over mango brown rice plantains baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies,

in a Coca Cola truck riding shotgun hot as hell hungover below the raging Kensington El at 6 AM nodding soft to the teamsters' curses the snagglesouled destitute crawling forth poisoned from sheet-metal shanty cardboard box projects this is not desolate,

at the impound lot yet again accusing tow trucks of false pretext paying up sheepish swearing I'll have my  revenge,

in the afterhour streets practicing trashcan kung fu and cinder block shotput shouting sauvage operatic at  tattooed bike messenger tribesmen pitstopped at the food trucks,

in the embrace of those I don't love the names sometimes rush at me drowned and I pray to myself for  asylum,

in the ciphers I host always at least 8 emcee lyric clerics summoning elemental until every pore ruptures  and their eyes erupt furious forever the profound voice of dreadlocked Will still haunting stray  bullet shuffles six years later,

in the caldera of Center City with everyone craning our skulls skyward past the stepped skyscrapers  beaming ear-to-ear welcoming acid sun rain melting maddeningly to reconstitute as concrete  rubber steel glass glowing nymphs,

in Philadelphia where every angle is accounted for and every megawatt careers into every throbbing wall where  Art is a mirror universe for every event ever volleyed through the neurons of History,

in Philadelphia of so many places to hide I am altogether as a funnel cloud frenetic roiling imbuing every corner sanctum sanctorum with jackhammer electromagnetism quivering current realizing stupefied I have failed so utterly wonderful human for in seeking to hide I have found

in Philadelphia
My best Ginsberg impression.
Big Virge Jun 2019
Conspiracy ... ???
    
Theory ... ???    
    
Or .... REALITY ... ?!?    
    
This Is A Dilemma ...    
That Needs ... CLARITY ... !!!    
    
So Who Pulls The Strings of ... Societies ... ???    
People In Office ... Or Those We Don't See ... ?!?    
    
This Piece Could Result ...    
In The Ending of Me ... !?!?!    
Cos' I Don't Believe ....    
In A Card With ...  I.D. ... !!! ...    
    
It's Just One More Way ...    
To ... " Watch Over We " ...    
    
LISTEN Big Brother ... !!!    
STOP Checking On Me ... !!!!    
    
This Type of Ideal ...    
Is Just ... INSANITY ... ?!!!?    
    
We Can't Walk The Streets ...    
Without ... C.C.T.V. .... !?!?!    
    
Meantime The Police ...    
Employ ... BRUTALITY ... !!?!!    
    
I'm Trying To See ...    
How This ... Technology ...    
Will Make Living Better ...    
For You and For Me ... ???    
    
Sometimes I Do Think ...    
We Should All ... " Cop A Plea " ... !!!    
    
And Then We Might ...    
FINALLY SEE .... Who THEY BE ... !!?!!    
    
Masons And THOSE ...    
Who Are ... "hidden from view" ...    
    
Those Who Have People ...    
STILL ... SHINING Their Shoes ...    
    
Those Who Are ... "hidden" ...    
From .... Social Issues ....    
    
Where Are ...    
Holmes and Watson ... ?    
    
I'm Needing Some Clues ...    
Or Maybe Like ... " Muddy " ... ???    
They're Feeling ... " The Blues " ... !!!    
    
WHO CONTROLS The News ... ???    
    
WHO PULLS Our Sinews ... ???    
    
How Many of You ... ???    
Are Tame ... Like The Shrew ... ???    
  
Because of The FEAR ... !!!    
of ... What They Would Do ... !!!    
    
THEY As In ... " THEM " ...    
The ... " CONTROLLING Few " ...    
    
These ... Cash Marketeers ...    
Who ... THRIVE OFF Our Fear ... !!!    
of Losing Control ....    
of The Pound Being Here ...    
    
Simply So They ...    
Can Keep Up With Their Peers ...    
    
What's Wrong With The EURO ... ?    
I Don't Have An Answer .... !!!    
    
Do ...    
Any of You Know ... ?!?    
    
This Issue's ... " A SCANDAL " ...    
Just Like ....  " John Profumo " ... !!!!!    
    
Or Like ... " Watergate " ...    
But When We Find Out ...    
It's Always TOO LATE ... !!!!!    
    
These Thieves Don't Want Piece ... !!!!!    
They Want THE WHOLE CAKE ... !!!!!    
    
They're ALL ... !!!    
On The TAKE ... !!!    
    
They Slither Like ... SNAKES ... !!!!!    
    
And These Are The People ...    
Who ... CONTROL Our Fate ... ?!?    
    
It's NOT JUST The Whites ... !!!    
Who ... "KEEP Their GRIP TIGHT" ...    
    
Some Blacks Are INSECTS ... !!!!    

Just Look At What Happened ...    
To YES .... " Malcolm X " .... !!!!!!!!    
    
THIS Is A Subject ...    
The Nation ... REJECTS ... !!!    
So That's Where I'll STOP ... !!!    
Before They ... GET VEX ... !!!    
    
So .....    
Back To The Pound ... £££    
    
Why Do These Fools Hound ... ???    
When ... " Tapping Your Pin " ...    
Is Now The ... NEW Sound ...    
of Payments We're Making ...    
Across ... English Towns ...    
    
MP's Are Just CLOWNS ... !!!    
Who ... Make People FROWN ... !!!    
    
Cos' Plans They Are Making ...    
Simply .... " CONFOUND " .... ?!?!?!?    
    
" Money Makes The ..... "    
    
ENOUGH ... ENOUGH ... !!!!!!!!!    
    
I'm NO James Brown ... !!!    
    
But TRUST Me ... That Man ...    
Could Really .... " GET DOWN " ... !!!!!    
    
He Spoke THE TRUTH ...... !!!    
And Made STRONG MOVES ... !!!    
    
But Then ... Was Jailed ...    
Cos' He LOST ............................ His Cool ..... !!!    
    
Jacko' TOO ... !!!    
Was One ... " ACCUSED " ...    
    
HE'S A ******* !!!    
    
Said ....    
WORLDWIDE News ... !!!    
    
But Let Me Just ...    
EXPLAIN To You ...    
    
He Owned The Rights ...    
To Some ..... BIG TUNES ...... !!!!    
That Labels Were After ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!    
    
This Is ... THE TRUTH ... !!!    
    
See ... Money FEEDS ...    
This Thing Called GREED ...    
    
How Many ... BLEED ...    
To Have .... " MONEY " .... !!!    
    
.... " Conspiracies " ....    
..... SUPPORT Money ..... !!!
    
And This Can Lead ... ?    
To ... " ***** DEEDS " ...    
By Those Who ARE ...    
The ... " GREEDY BREED " ... !!!!!    
    
Believe What You Like ... !!!    
But Like Flav' Said ...    
    
DON'T BELIEVE THE HYPE !    
    
Not EVERYONE ...    
Can Be Like ... " Mike " ... !!!!    
    
Wear Your Nikes ... !!!    
    
I'm Gonna Wear Mine ... !!!    
Cos' It WON'T STOP ...    
The ... " Grand Design " ...    
    
Too Many FOOLS ... !!!!!!!    
Just ... " Fall In Line " ...    
    
They Should Take ...    
A ..... " Little Time ............... "    
    
To Hear The TRUTH ...    
In ... Words of Rhyme ...    
    
From ... Angelou ...    
To ... Peter Tosh .... !!!    
    
Before Their Souls ...    
Are ... " ETERNALLY LOST " ...    
    
We Need MORE TRUTH ... !!!    
And ... Less Theory ....    
    
What's REAL To You ...    
And ..... REALITY ...... !!!!!!    
    
Which Brings Me Back ...    
    
To ....    
    
... " Conspiracies " ...
As The Good Pres' ... Donald said ....

A lot of news is fake, but, when it comes to conspiracies ...

Can We ... REALLY Say The Same .....................................................
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
die nacht  aus alle verewigung -
verewigung die nacht - in immigrant German
spoken - not spoken, hälfte, hälfte,
pork-chops go go got taken with Australian *******...
cos selling the body saved you with the crucifix from
selling something like your soul, hence the accord to
be ready for critique of selling the magic potion of drinking
iodine... i was a fetus back then... when the atom
**** got the plastic elasticity of tangling
to wanking a didgeridoo... magician's syndrome:
**** that tightened fist and i'll assure you
you'll get the white flag of piracy's peace:
meaning they never robbed the rich men, pirates
just robbed the artists... hey wooden plank,
knock knock... don't make me into a wooden chair...
take a creaking floorboard and make it into
a shimmy toothpick... knock knock... who's there?
Jude? Jude who? hey i'm Jude? Judy Jew who?
a Jew who chewed propaganda and hid Jude.
fair enough, Jude's the everyday Jew.
no, she's the Rabbi! Rabbi who?
the Sabbatical who knows who.
some say i know god.
well, good luck with that, mostly asserted
on death row.
at least that place is given a fabric of a team effort.
by the time i think about next week's trash
i'll have written something akin to it being
taken out into a pig's trough of what resembled
the dating scene in New York...
hardly reminiscent of the gay Utopia:
so much anger yet still only the vote,
so much anger yet still only the vote...
           the intelligence poured in, but the
quiff only wanted the algebra of x
to match it up to a presidential race success with some donor's
y, and later + and squared and equals to make
those family holidays affordable.
- winter-night... deutschekaiser....
i swear it would be cheaper to build a wall
around the middle east...
like the European Union really
wanted to invest in dates... cos we were
ready to make a Sabbath from a Ramadan...
like we waited for the loss of % on added debt...
we waited, and waited... and waited...
we got McDonald's instead... and that was all
in the inventory... and that was all in
whatever we got, if we got anything:
deutsche schmutzig machen... is that perfect
German muddy - herrbzigg - or alter
Philanthropist zigzag - howdy howdy **?
dots the avenue...
and the many riches coming your way...
make muddy, or muddied already,
takes one swipe of the credit card,
ends up with 110 to nil streaks of ****
bothered about Star Trek... and the cellphone...
and the extraterrestrials of Mexico (or he co & co; huh i?)...
got the gangrene green if you
like the Licorice tangle of blank Ovid saying:
mahogany, mahogany, mahoney... mama got all da
honey... n she got the 2Pac shaky shaky core blues;
mind the albino in the hood:
or Mars the red planet, Earth the brown planet,
scary they thought of dinosaurs with dragons prior...
didn't think of Martian life prior to government
conspiracies, way before Darwinism and crowd control...
life on Mars: well, it was once there,
long before dinosaurs, and bacteria and yogurt...
long before the circus, and the commuter caterpillar...
i believe that there was life on Mars,
given the timescale... it was there...
but it ain't there anymore...
                           which might explain the U.F.O.s....
don't believe the government's audacity to have
created something so phosphorescent Zulu
as to invoke an engraving of lawless Voodoo...
before we knew of dinosaur remains we drew dragons...
before we explored Mars we were given
the proofs... life existed on Mars, long before
Earth was made the 2nd laboratory of a deity...
then it died, given the life-cycle of stars...
Mars is rocky... earth is rocky...
whatever life existed on Mars in its full potential
is long gone... is this really as weird
as what pop culture makes of man and monkey?
kettle and carpal muscles evolving from
oysters? we really can become equally ridiculous to
the extent that we turn on each other...
it didn't take much to divide Hindu from Muslim
into India and Pakistan... this won't take much thought either...
i'm just trying to counter scientific negativism,
and counter the timescale of both physicists' big bang
theory and the anti-historical Darwinism...
i'm starting with life on Mars, at a time when
Earth was inhospitable... volcanic... i might be among
the many people treated as being "mentally ill"
when the government claims to be so advanced as to practice
such projections of phosphorescent objects,
when it's dumb as Donald *****... because NASA is
not theoretical enough... and the government seeks
control by claiming NASA isn't the end result...
the usual suspects: lies... and more lies...
the Venusian Art... the pick-up artists...
i read it, never tried it... wish i did... but i also wished
for a herd of goats too...
but that's the best explanation of sighting a UFO i have...
before Earth was made habitable, Mars came prior...
Mars is rocky... is Earth... our fantasy is about discovering
life on Mars... life on Mars left a long time ago...
it's gone... gone gone gone...
the sun is cooling down before it becomes a dwarf...
before the perfection of this glasshouse of plants and animals
Mars came before us... and it was perfect...
later came this whole God and Devil debacle and plagiarism...
the first supreme, the second mildly similar...
but altogether worse... i told you, a phosphorescent object
in the night is hardly a government project...
the government is not capable of such things...
if they are, then they're like a man with a 4 inch
***** telling a girl he's a millionaire and has a fetish for
watching his girlfriend get ****** by a stranger with a 12 inch ****...
do the match... get a mud-bath.
the Welsh drew dragons and the Chinese too,
long before the dinosaurs usurped the happy-times
next to a bonfire... i'm just like that...
life existed on Mars long before we decided to look
for microbes on that red Ayers orb...
i'd be looking for sodium rather than twin oxygen trapped
into liquid by hydrogen, then always alienating laws
by ice, the said liquid and vapour...
my theory is that the original life on Mars,
didn't experience hydro sodium chloride... i.e. the seas...
Mars had only sweet life form... given the Devil
plagiarised Mars with earth, we received the seas...
we received the hydro sodium chloride... salty waters...
so if i was heading to Mars, i'd be mostly interested
in finding sodium chloride (salt) than anything...
not life... if i was heading to Mars i'd be trying to find salt...
not life... salt... salt... salt... Angie Jolie film (2010)? Salt.
because we forgot our individual intuition,
and we chose to have individual intellect that might be
easily swayed, because of this we allowed
collective intuition to arise... which we couldn't
intellectualise, because a collective intuition gave rise
premonition, prophecy and such artefacts of similar attention...
no collective intellect could ever be grasped:
atheism and Christianity and Islam and etc.
are such examples of what we lost... once we gave up
individual intuition, to replace it with a collective intellect,
we couldn't revise individual intuition with an individual
intellect (how many adherents of Marx does it
take to change a light-bulb?) - so we invested in
a collective intuition, whatever you call it, it's maxim
is still unshaken with the words: the sun will rise tomorrow.
a line from Heidegger concerning this observation:
every man is born as many men and dies as a single one -
like me, how i discovered the difference between
the man and the mass, intuition and intellect...
how man reversed the intuitive continuum of animals
to converse with an anti-animal invigoration of
intellect, and transcend the continuum of replicas,
and therefore invest in embryo, or the book of Genesis,
"original", in that, also a continuum by ontological inspection:
i.e. continually revisionist... Einstein preceding Newton...
Orangutan Joe preceding King Kong was never
really going to happen.
Coleen Mzarriz Jun 2021
The ocean has a variety of conspiracies of being in its mystical state —
even creatures there knows how the world evolves in being in aggressive selfishness,
these people were still uncertain if it's five or seven oceans that we have,
everything is a metaphor —
all that we have can be fictional.
But, how do we determine if it's rather the reality and not just a conspiracy of thoughts put in science?

There are a variety of creatures and beings found scattered all over the earth, there were lullabies discovered in the means of this present time.
Everyone is entering a phase where reality turns fictional and the fictional happens more in reality.

But, despite all the conspiracies made by the geniuses, nothing can top the intelligence of the universe uniquely creating the earth filled with people —
different faces, different integrity, different minds
logical and artistic.

Among the other things, the ocean has a variety of conspiracies of being in its mystical state —
even the minds can't perceive how it is actually closer in the pit of hell — but, one single lullaby can turn conspiracy into the music of taste.

A single lullaby from Her can turn conspiracy into a song and the oceans deep can be discovered.
Thoughts about the ocean and science.
thevagabondking Apr 2013
my dad and brother sit around
on sunday afternoons
talking about conspiracies

kennedy
area 51
princess diane
911
all the **** no one really
understands

some of it they say
was planned some if
it not so much

i sit and take it all in,
scratch my sack when needed,
watch outside for the storm that’s
coming waiting for five o’clock when
i can stop thinking and drink a bottle
or two

heat filled sentences shooting
thought process half dead
get me mad

if everything is a conspiracy
then **** this heart of mine
and **** all this time i wasted
waiting
Manas Madrecha Jun 2015
English Tranliteration - Pratishod Ek Mithya Hain

Ghisi peeti baate hain ab, tum naa uljho ateet mein,
Tyaag dwesh gar maaf karo, badle shatru bhi meet mein...

Sugalte badle ki chingaari ko, nahi lagti der badalte aag mein,
Barsaao kshama ka paani us par, katutaa badle prembaag mein...

Sabhi jeev hain mitra tumhare, fir bair bhav ka kya prayojan,
Waqt rehte thook do gussa, behtar hain apna lo sanyam...

Pratishod ek mithya hain, mat uljho iske jaal mein,
Saajisho aur yojaanaao mein, aur badle ki chaal mein...

Krodh ke angaare oor mein rakh, khud hi ko jalaa baithoge...
Man ki chinta chittaa samaan, yeh baat puraani bhulaa baithoge...

Der nahi huyi hain ab tak, maafi ki ehmiyat jaan lo,
Thoda maaf tum kar do ab, aur thodi tum bhi maang lo...

- - - - -

English Translation - Vengeance Is An Illusion

Begone and ancient thing it is, you don't get indulged in the past,
By abandoning hatred, if you forgive (someone) , then even an enemy gets transformed into a friend.

It doesn't take much time for a burning vengeance of cinder to change into fire,
Pour the water of forgiveness onto it, and even bitterness will change into garden of love.

All the beings are friends of yours, then what is the use of aversion?
In time, spit away your anger, and it's better to adopt temperance (sobriety/control) .

Vengeance is an illusion, don't get entwined in its trap,
In its conspiracies & plans, as well as in its schemes.

By keeping the burning coals of anger in heart, you will burn yourself alone,
Mind's worry is like a crematory pyre: you'll forget this ancient wisdom.

It's not too late still; know the significance of forgiveness,
You should now forgive a little and you should also ask for it a little...

- - - - -

Original Poem - प्रतिशोद इक मिथ्या है*

घिसी पीटी बातें हैं अब, तुम ना उलझो अतीत में।
त्याग द्वेष गर माफ़ करो, बदले शत्रु भी मीत में।।

सुलगते बदले की चिंगारी को, नहीं लगती देर बदलते आग मे।
बरसाओ क्षमा का पानी उस पर, कटुता बदले प्रेमबाग मे।।

सभी जीव हैं मित्र तुम्हारे, फिर बैरभाव का क्या प्रयोजन।
वक़्त रहते थूक दो गुस्सा, बेहतर है अपना लो संयम।।

प्रतिशोद इक मिथ्या है, मत उलझो इसके जाल में।
साजिशों और योजनाओं में, और बदले की चाल में।।

क्रोध के अँगारें रख उर में, खुद ही को जला बैठोगे।
मन की चिन्ता चित्ता समान, यह बात पुरानी भुला बैठोगे।।

© Poem by *
Manas Madrecha
This poem was first published on the blog 'Simplifying Universe'
(http://www.simplifyinguniverse.blogspot.com) in May, 2015.
Mohammad Skati Feb 2015
Conspiracies and plots are real things ,but                                                            Where are those plotters and those conspirators ?!                                                Always hiding in their ugly hideouts just                                                              To order the visible and invisible scenarios ...                                                         All ends justify the means ,so                                                                                  Disguised and masked ,                                                                                           Those plotters and those conspirators quietly                                                        Stage their evil                                                                                                          Anywhere and everywhere ...
Pierre Ray Mar 2012
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government

mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts

degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed

protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia

bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,

opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination

and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
My uncle.
Who I love.
Is a peculiar man.
He once told me of the oddest conspiracy.
He said that the reason major governments of the earth don't fight each other constantly, is because the already do.
In space.

Each country has a ship.
Armed and maned to the teeth.
And they just shoot at each other.
Everyday.
And that's how all of the big national disputes were settled.
Star Trek style.

So when I heard this, I tossed my thoughts into the atmosphere.
Letting them swirl and shine among the satellites.
What did they do, up there?
Sitting in their spaceships.
Thinking of each other.
Wondering why they all were stuck in tin can time bombs.
Surrounded by the icy void.
Waiting for their ships to be shot out of the sky.
The debris to fall through children's dreams and shooting stars.
Spitting sparks like ancient dragons.

And these people wait for that.
Hidden from sight and mind.
Only just to shoot at each other.
Over a border, a mans wish, or a loaf of bread.
Inspired by seeing article about why conspiracies appeal to us, and wondered how I would write it as a poem. And my uncle.
Brandon Apr 2011
The mind has gone AWOL
Armageddon in the blood crimson gargantuan sky
Black stars from the depth of vacant eyes
Oil rains down in sightless desert heat
The last cigarette inhaled before the bomb detonates
Fortunate sons in the era of friendly fire
Rivals hunt metropolis streets to acquire a living
Anonymous crypts get lost in the politics
Seen convicted through bludgeoned eyes
Honored my name with a plaque on a wall
Documentation of civil declaration
Conformity inspired figurehead of a homeland
Bricks leading up to the footsteps of the Whitehouse
Epic Monkey Nov 2013
(To my sisters and brother)

I will always miss …


Our sunset ending quarrels

Our never-ending teases

Christmas’ shared carols

Warm hugs

Through sweet gazes

The sarcastic smiling faces

The growing-up races

Revenge taking chases

Greed over goodies to be hidden

In unpredictable places


And I will always miss …


Competitions and crazy bets

Singing hilarious duets

Of made-up songs in the shower

This innocence

Of our childish humor

Screamed from a room to another

That art of tricking eachother

To cleverly stay in control

Or wrestling over the remote control



And I will always miss …

Decades of shared history

Amplified joy and divided misery

Bursts of laughter on old tapes

Creatively imagined games

Of whirlpools in drapes

And goalkeeper leaps

Random costume parties

Daily role-play stories

Sega sagas from dusk to dawn

Alliances and conspiracies


Sisters, my lovely sisters

Wise, you have become

Loving wives, caring mothers

Soon, you will become

Make sure your kids relive

What we used to live

Their uncle will make you proud

Just like you fill him with pride


Brother, dear brother

I secretly looked up to you

As I grew older

I kept resembling you

It doesn’t matter

If you’re a little far

Brotherhood’s a matter

Of unbreakable bond


And I will always admire, respect, love and cherish …
Every single one of you
Written last month.
My brother lives in another country and my sisters will both get married next year
Aseh Oct 2016
We are renters
Living off leased land
Never land owners
Years of finances poured into revolving doors
and recycled down into intricate designs creeping beyond the
comprehension of the reasonable woman
(or man)

Why do we fear so much the need for one another?
Desperately flattening desire into hardened emotion
We can't even breathe properly anymore
Oozing smoke and conspiracies out of our pores;

anxiety became our lifeblood
james nordlund Oct 2018
Since our political system has been laid bare, after RumputiN was installed
in the Blackhouse, it's beautiful complex of lack of complexity, in a word,
conspiracy of conspiracies, has moved me and "...we(e),..." to have as a few
of my favorite things be far more reaching questions, out of necessity. Like,
without acknowledging, and demanding others do the same, that it's been
purposely engineered to be a criminal injustice system instead, how can one
even have a real conversation that would lead to potential for real change
of it taking place in reality, if you don't know who you were, where you've
been, how on God's green Earth can you expect to know who..., where you are
and what's going on, necessary to start thinking about changing anything,
even yourself, as well as directing who you will be and where you will
be going, etc.?  Swine slaughtering lower-middle-class to poor men en masse,
mostly of color, instead of just doing the usual liquidation of their ases
and assets, are just serial murderers masquerading as cops, and what goes
around comes around, no?  If you're not taking bullets you're making them.  
Also, people are fed up with felonious RumputiN and his rootin' tootin'
organized crime family spree from the Blackhouse, which should be prosecuted
using the RICO Statute instead of just being elaborately covered up by Mueller
for he's not using it and he's handing out immunities like soldiers candy to
Iraqi kids, duh.  I would add some salient pointless points, beyond the 'empty
boat' of Zen, and 'useless tree' of the Tao, we can understand the burden
placed on our shoulders by our ancestry not exercising their responsibilities
as they should have, and thereby it's Siamese twin sisters, their freedoms,
Withered like unused muscles as well, as a panultimate challenge, saving
humanity, literally. Also, understanding Jung's "80 % of all actions, thoughts,
feelings we have, that we acknowledge, or don't, perceive or don't, are
compensatory towards our pasts", necessitates an integral understanding of
Satre's existentialism' meaning of angst, as experience integral to life, not
opposed to it, but, rather, central to it, and a nexus of it.  This is more
than an embracing of gestalt's, Perls', moment, now. Moving away from sophist
perspective, we also experience the meaning of life is struggle, which comes
through all our meaningful work, succinctly. Further, what is life beyond that
foci is also, the where, when, who, how, and sometimes why too (but never Y2K)
of life; beyond our masks and ego fulfilling stories, schtick, lines, etc..
Do we struggle, not just as lifelong students, with the impossible, not just
the improbable.  Yet, it's actually more layered than that in a much larger
dimensional paradigm than 4 dimensions.  Yes, the effects of our causes in any
action usually have effects that undo our causes as we act them out, intend,
present them, etc..  Yet, those more superficial, linear, first conclusion
layers are not less effective, per se, as the complexity of Karma, Dharma are
beyond our normal comprehension. What is the root of thought, feeling, the root
of feeling, being, the root of being, the extent to which we struggle with what
it is, no?  For, as the following twig of poetree gleans: Soul//
As my breath
is the one, prana,/
And the life's pulse, pala,/
Reaching angelic source, sura,/

So is this mind, manas, a
/  Flowering unfoldment,
/ Unendingly touching
/ The eye
that would it see,/  
Unbeckoning unto thee./
As well, this Bodhi, a temple,/

Of the four and fifth, nur,/  
So entered by atma, a ray of thy sun,/  
Thus being
winged, and
/  As such with wind,/
Flying only in dharma's dance,/
Is returning
to, Brahma, you./  For, there yet, by thy grace, go I./  
We are not who we think
we are, we are, rather, the extent to which we struggle to evolve to be some-
things, spirit, soul, Bodhi, etc., on the path of study that could and should
be one, you, me, forever asked and never answered.  Yet, even if we lived as
prayer, our light only adding to the well of light, our every step in grace,
leaving no footprints that followed none, echoing in all ways, always,
sometimes, like pulling teeth, "...we(e),...", must stalk our words from our
insides 'til we wrangle them, like cats, to the tip of our tongues, no?  For,
"Words weren't meant for cowards..." and we must "be brave...", Happy Rhodes.
We can't allow ourselves the luxury of taking our supposedly 'golden silence'
all the way to the bank, as your average bear does.  These are the end times,
we successfully struggle, to abolish global defacto-slavery by the non-renew-
able energies' corporate structure's machine and it's convolution, against
the global oligarchy's premeditated mass-****** of 7.5 billion people, or
humanity's extinct.  Gandhi, "(supposed) science is the root of all opression"
and, "...we(e),..." must be the change we want in the world".  Is not life
relation, are we not responsible for one another, are not all threads in
the fabric of life needed, as is the evoliutionary ones' mendings, for we
can't allow it to be torn asunder?  If not here, then where, if not now, when,
not you, who? Viva la evolucion.  Indivisible, illimitable you, GOTV.
Please copy, share as you will. this GOTV twig of poetree   :)   reality
Sydney Victoria Nov 2012
Why Do You Always Have To Hurt Me?
Why Do You Always Have To Think So Negatively?
Why Do You Always Look At The Glass Half Empty?
Instead Of Looking What We Have,
I Guess The Ice Cubes In That Drink,
Make It Hard For You To Think,
Always Complaining That It's Not Good,
Yet You Wanna Go To The Party In The Hood,
Mess Up Your Life,
But Saying You're Making Life Right?
You Have A Past,
But Who Am I To Judge?
I Thought This Would Last,
But Now It's A Life Long Grudge,
Saying You Stopped All This Nonsense With Drugs And ****,
Yet If I Ask About Your Past You Start To Yell At Me,
Criticizing My Beliefs Because They Have No Cross To Be Nailed To,
But Being In This World I'm Starting To Live That Lifestyle Through,
Criticize The Unknown Because You Are Afraid,
Yet You Love Discriminating Because You Think It's Brave,
Not Thinking Twice About Conspiracies,
You Just Don't Think Critically,
Unlike Me You Think We Are A Match Made In Heaven,
When Truth Is All You Want To Do Is Pop Prescription Medicine,
You Don't Think About You're Long Term Negative Affect On Me,
All You See Is My Glass Half Full,
Never Looking At It Empty,
And You Don't Like That So You Strive For Us To Be Equal,
This Romance Is Like A Never Ending Sequel,
Hands Tighten Around My Throat As You Try To Kiss Me,
But After The Fact You Sit There And Just Try To Diss Me,
Trying To Smother Out The Truth,
Letting Chaos Run Loose,
Your Just Another Hand To Help Tie The Noose,
Waiting To Strangle My Inner Being And Make Me Scream Truce,
First And Foremost I Believe Everybody Lies,
And I Will Relate To That Until The Day I Die,
Black And White Frames Try To Swallow My Color,
Making Me A Copy Just Like Every Other,
You're Like A Bill O'Reily Or Maybe A Mitt Romney,
When I Try To Speak The Truth You Always Interrupt Me,
I Don't Mean To Name Names,
But These Are Few Who Bring Us Shame,
For Trying To Think Outside The Box,
Who Put The Key Inside The Lock,
And You Sit There Telling Me How School And My Belief's Are Bogus,
But Who Are Trying To Act So **** Heroic?
When I Soar On A Natural High You Say Im Crazy,
But At Least I'm Not Sitting There With A Glass Half Empty...
Needed To Get That Off My Chest, No Hate About My Views Please...
Sneaking in silently,
whispering
secrets and conspiracies.

This is a puzzle,
scattered by
your thoughtless actions.

Voice still as stone,
I am held
prisoner of my mind.

The hands around my throat,
are not your's
but my very own.
Pax Mar 2015

Complicated right and wrong,
human mistakes gone prolong.
hard to stop when truth hides
                     from many unseen lies.
Corruptions & conspiracies
        Mimics love for money.

Population demands increase
                and supply decrease.
Shortage of goods from over consumption.
Rare find in a brink of extinction.

sorry for being away, having some troubled thinking here, so here is the third one...
thanks for reading, I'll get back to you all....
tell me what you think?
Shevek Appleyard Nov 2022
Starting up you're all I want to touch
just us, half naked
weekends wasted
stripping, sniffing, sipping
its star splitting

you stain my brain
and thoughts on my sheets
its been weeks and I'll always choose you over sleep

you're smug
cos you think I'm in love
but you know I'm caving
the hum of your presence I'm craving
the lull of my lust misbehaving
all senses wavering
I stare my issues in the face

spiteful inflictions influx your world
this happiness is on borrowed time
as a sun bleeds beauty
my heels ***** with demise
staged under skies of potent paradise
and I've lost all sense of myself
smothered by mental health

there's toxicity to our proximity
that renders all possibilities for me
I sigh to leave behind heavy lies
but at least I'm half free from anxiety
and I can smoke again

yet there's more bad decisions in the shape of you
and we know its not true
but I decanter out the decadence
so I wont feel possession
obsession can maintain you
don't use it to sustain you

the complications spring my elations
hallucinations that restores clarity
tiny triggered spores open doors to expose your vanity
egos obscured what our reality ignores
as we explore each other's minds and sanity
potions of emotions keep the notion
that were not too eager for unhealthy devotion
we climb on frantic antics and struggle with the semantics
of what we want to say...

if we enjoyed being bored
not living for drama
reserving our pain
and deserving our karma

my cat scraps the shadows as
my mind maps the gallows
feasting on conspiracies of negativity
but hardly mindful to see
they'll always be a distraction
an infectious interaction
that puts things off track

mellowed attributes and more attention
make room for romance soon to be rotten
a spark of love so soon forgotten

apparatus attitudes
practice in ventriloquism of truth
an alchemist interlude
as I manoeuvre to conclude
these epiphanies are constant
then snoozed away
I don't owe you
in blue to choose these lazy ways
days of ***** are hazy with
drunken clues, to forget the thoughts
bought from the hangover before
this is gifted guilt but I know me by now
and its obscurely ordinary
to be deliciously disgusted by you
kristine marie Aug 2014
you blackout when you're eight years old and lose five minutes of your life, your memory. you open your eyes in a room with a faint blue hue, and a figure standing over you; bulbous head and large eyes, small mouth, a sickly frame. you think about the news and all of the ufo sightings your mother told you were just conspiracies, but you reach out and an alien takes your hand and pulls you up.

"you're okay, buddy," he says in a foreign tongue that you somehow understand. "it'll be our little secret."

our little secret, you remember, and you keep it to yourself for fifteen years, but try your hardest to reveal the truth behind closed doors.

you lose five minutes of your life and spend the rest of it wondering just what happened.

they say trauma takes a toll on the mind and various coping mechanisms include blocking and burying. you rack your brain and search and dig, but nothing makes sense. you remember the blue room and the alien that saved you, and before that, a childish dinner of lucky charms, but nothing in between.

it's not until you're 24, grown and providing for yourself and suffering from a fear of intimacy that you realize what you've buried. you foolishly believed in aliens and spent your teenage years researching their existence, hoping to find answers to your lifelong questions. you go back to that house, that house with the blue room, only to find that no one lives there anymore.

so you break a window and climb right in, sit on a couch that's all too familiar, but you don't remember being here. you blacked out for five minutes when you were eight years old and you think this house is the answer to your memory.

you step through the kitchen and this is the room, the room with the blue hue. lay down on the hardwood floor and look up; there are the cabinets and the golden handles that you remember. there, at the top of the refrigerator, is the dog shaped jar of cookies.

you close your eyes and try to remember, and suddenly you're eight years old again, laying on the ground with your clothes off. it's cold and there's blood drying around your nose and your glasses are crooked. the alien you thought you saw was never an alien, after all.

"you're okay, buddy," he says with a devious grin. he's shirtless and walking on cloud 9, bending down to lend you a hand. "it'll be our little secret."

you wake up screaming because everything you thought you knew was a lie. the aliens, the ufo's, they're just conspiracies. distractions from the truth, from the earth shattering revelation of what really happened.

they say trauma takes a toll on the mind and various coping mechanisms include blocking and burying. you searched, you dug, and nothing made sense because you got it all wrong; aliens don't exist but monsters do.

and he, the one who's secret you've kept, he's scarred you. he's stolen you from you. he reached for your hand as a peace offering. he stole your innocence, your virtue, and you never even knew. but it makes sense now, doesn't it?

you blacked out for five minutes when you were eight years old to try to forget, and you spent the rest of your life trying to remember. you shuddered at anyone's touch, never let anyone near you and you never knew why.

life was better when aliens existed but monsters, they feed on your ignorance, your innocence, your virtue. but those are gone now, and he can't hurt you anymore.
inspired by the 2004 movie mysterious skin and fueled by personal experience. this is more prose than poetry.
J B Moore Nov 2016
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.

11/2/16 11:59 p
Just a little fun with alliteration and nonsense
Noah A Baker Apr 2014
So, what if I told you
reality is the dream.
Are you prepared for the
                                         NIGHTMARE?
Do you want to wake up?
Yes, the key is to open your mind and wake up and become one of the socially conscious higher ups in the anarchy we call
Society,
But with great power comes great responsibility.
Honestly, do you believe in the prophecy that our generation can
RISE THROUGH ADVERSITY
Become the masterpiece that God envisioned when he created this tapestry of writers and athletes?
Actually, better yet
Do you believe in the ghost of the past that rest uncomfortably in it's sanctuary?
Are we the Golden Age or are we gilded
We're livid, vivid, driven toward a goal that looks more like a sign telling us we're going the wrong way.
A wicked testimony.
So we're faced with these two options
To wake up or remain dormant
To be a pawn or be a king
To live on our knees or die on our feet
And I don't blame you if you choose eternal slumber
Because we all love to sleep and it's ironic because that's what we look forward to to during each and every day we spend in this dream --
I mean, reality
But, if you choose to lay off the benadryl and take a dose of this "real world"
You may find that missing key you've been looking for.
Or, the glass can be empty and you find nothing but misery and insomnia.
Again, the choice is yours and even if it may SCARE you
Dying on your feet means you learned to walk.
Isn't that the first thing we learn to do?
So maybe our parents actually taught a life lesson
(to our extreme disbelief)
And do know a thing or two
But still, we are the iPhone generation
And they have no clue how to tweet anti government conspiracies and
scroll for hours on tumblr
So what do they know
For all we know they may still be asleep and in the same cheap hotel room as us
So is there to trust
When we dream of gamemasters loving torturing the lower classes and pitting them against each other in death matches?!
Take this match and spark the cowards
Bring light to the revolution and set ablaze the darkening towers
Let's have lucid dreams and rebuild the democracy
Dreams and reality become synonymous and merge into each other to form a new entity and we shall call it
**GOD? YOUR MASTERPIECE!
sorry it's so long
hm.
Ben Jan 2014
Life is serene,
Packed with the calamity,tragedy and sorrowness.

Life is serene,
Painted along with blood,hatred and fury.

Life is serene,
Dwells in the delicate,brittle and fragile heart.

Life is serene,
Feeds on atrocities,supremacies and conspiracies.

Life is serene,
If human cares about serenity.
David Moss Dec 2014
In the beginning, There was God.

And then God made love. And God saw that it was good.

And then God turned to John Lennon and asked ‘Are you sure this is all we really need, John?’

And John nodded and spoke. ‘It is indeed.’



…… Said no priest ever.


But it is a funny thought isn’t it?

When do you think love was love first created?
Of when and how can probably be debated
I think though


One thing is for sure
Love in it’s essence before this mind of ours,
Was probably a lot more simple and pure

It probably came without pretty words and without a ring
Without a priest or church to accept it or anything

It would have been an unfettered union of connection
Coupled with fact
Of basic matter flowing and the action of simply being
And to enact
What things intuitively know
What things really just feel
Underneath the idealist baloney of love, what is truly real.

A lengthy definition, I know




But please hear me out. Please.

I just want to show
That perhaps love was meant to be the force in the background

That keeps all matter entwined together and tightly bound
And whether to you that notion rings true
I feel, that Underneath all these thoughts and feelings
Some form of pure love just flows through all of me and all of you

Do you feel that too?

I think love is the energy holding everything in the universe together.

Call it dark matter, the god particle, WHATEVER

The tiny tethers scientists just cannot seem to hold down and find
Unions of energy connecting on fundamental levels
Vibrationa-Wait…..I’m sorry.


STOP IT.


Just stop…. looking at me like that!

Stop lusting over what you hear and see
I am trying to tell you that love isn’t just about the feelings between you and me.


Geez.

Ahem…..

Now where were we?

Ah right

My basic fundamental laws of connectivity.


I am speaking of the whole universal components that ever was and will be

Each single moment


That makes up every inch of reality.


Love to me…. is everything you see. Everything is love.

Never mind Physicist, the Beatles had it right.

Love is all we really need!




But….. I wish that was the end of the story



Humanities definition isn’t that at all.
Today’s love to me is the slow and desperate fall
From something new to something old
The epitome emotion of a bold humanity
Bound in self desire
An empire of gluttonous self pleasure
Pure hedonistic leisure
Without thoughts that maybe
Just maybe
We’re doing this love thing all wrong
Maybe all along
Like I’ve been saying


Love was first and foremost simply implied
To be more than just something shared between man and wife
And solely humankind

Like, I REALLY love trees.

Seriously. It’s what I want to be eventually.


Anyway. Back to the story of love shall we?

You see, I have this theory that when society and language came along
Loves pure and universal


Well….. love song.


Got messed up and rambled
It got scrambled through a perspective of harsh survival, brutal rival and competition
A billion little expeditions of selfish love renditions.
Love became some hierarchy of

me

me

and me.


I imagine throughout humanities struggling ages
Love got captured behind enemy lines
Beyond the kingdoms of greed and lust
Imprisoned battered and busted
Love in these mental wartimes eventually

Became somehow in short desperate supply
It’s once abundant sustenance
Now rationed


Denied and refined


Into a quick hit drug we’re all standing in line to snort


For a moments pleasure

An escapism and a getaway leisure

Smuggled into our metaphysical prison

Of loneliness we make inside

And if that isn’t enough of a depressing thought

To reside upon

Love when imprisoned to it’s final degrees


Gets all the qualities it shouldn’t be
In the POW camps of our history, love changed to something less than ordinary

Jealously, anger, envy and fear

This wasn’t the arsenal Love had before these desperate years

Oh no my friend

I think Loves been hijacked and I think it’s a spy


Though, all conspiracies aside


I think the way we love today


Is a Shell shocked version of what the universe had in mind.

I mean sure the universe can be seen as a hostile place

A big dark scary space of colossal destruction


But it’s also creation

Constant efficient reiteration of all that is

Into what will be

To me that doesn’t sound so bad

If you are accepting that change

Is the only noble constant to be had

From all this being alive, thing

It seems change for humans is hard accepting


But the more I think, it’s what makes living beautiful right?

The duality and inevitability of day and night

Of life and death

The frailty of knowing in my head

These lungs I have one day will exhale my final breath, And a curtain will be drawn and I will be dead.

BUT THE SHOW! MUST! GO! ON!

.....Someone once said.



These thoughts don’t deny me of anything.

In fact they bring me joy

Because I employ the ideal that love is everthing.

The knowledge that my acts of love on life’s stage

Live on in you all, re-made and renewed in some way.

And even on a material level my body will be broken down again

Into the soils of this earth from which I was made

And I will help sustain something somehow

And still be a part of everything gracefully

…… Hopefully a tree.

And when the earth explodes eventually I’ll just be stardust again

Apparently from whence I came

And a pure ideal of reunited love simplistically will just be

Without any thought of me

Now… Isn’t that a wealth of selfless love right there

Above and beyond the compare to the scared notions of heaven and hell?

You thought because I spoke of God before, maybe that’s where my faith dwells?

No my friends, my strength lies in simply sharing simple love.


The one that is an unfettered union of connection
Coupled with fact
Of basic matter flowing and the action of simply being
And to enact
What we intuitively know
What we really just feel
Underneath this idealistic baloney of love,

What is truly real.

A lengthy definition of love, I know


But when all is said, and thought and done
And this place is inhabited by no one

I think It’s all the universe truly had to show.
Miceal Kearney Dec 2010
1

I wasn’t suppose to go this far,
my stop was Cavan but I fell asleep
now I’m in Belfast. ****,
next bus tomorrow.
Lucky I never leave home without it.
A room in the Europa —
watching a P.C version of Family Guy
for ****-sake, it’s 2am.

Halfway late to the station
Clint Eastwood grabs me outside H.M.V
tells me: Gran Tournio is out on DVD.
As the machine gargles my receipt,
the newest member claiming
to be the true voice of Northern Ireland’s people
spoke at the station. I felt so lucky,

because I would, later, find you.


2

It's half past eight. In this housing estate,
Dooradoyle, Limerick cars are stirring, going to work.
God I'm so ******. Spent the night watching
9/11 conspiracies, South Park and Family Guy.
I sent you a txt at five past one.
Wish I could have whispered it into your ear.
I know it will be hours before you wake.

The thing with having small arms —
it drives you to reach the top shelf.
The moment you were born, Charlie Lennon
composed The Dawn Chorus
to signal a day; glorious,
still far from over.  

When I stay over, you’re 9ft away —
alone in another room. May as well
be a mile past the edge of the universe.
You give me your jumper to take to bed,
to touch, to smell. And again,
as I am leaving home; as now —
sober, on a bus back to Galway. It's raining,
but I'm in love with you.


3

Anyone sitting here?

5 minutes ago
we were thrusting in the toilets.

Our clothes take the stance
of opposing forces. Our alibi.
Tongues become txts.
I always have credit when in character.

With you beside me
I would **** half the people here,  
friends and colleagues alike.
Beat them to death.
Cave in their heads with my fists,
stop when punching carpet —
just so the remaining half could see
how tender I can hold you.

Our eyes transfixed, unwilling
to focus on anything else —
the place could be burning down
and all the love letters wouldn’t change the fact
that I can not read and you can not write.


4

It’s something truly fantastic,
secretly held love —
pure ****** in ****** veins.

We came out
in McDonagh’s Fish and Chip shop.
Held hands above the table.
And lips. Some of the dinners
couldn’t care. Others said Uh …
and finished off their Haggis.


5

Having spent the past 3 hours
in this 1950’s spider-infested
green and white Telecom Eireann phone-box,
I have concluded that
you were a miserable ***** towards the end.
The passing headlights, blinkered by the rain
decrease the potential of my thumb:
I have 2 more hours to wait —
giving me time to reflect.

Furthermore, if I'd my entire life to live over,
despite the 2 restraining orders
and my car being crushed into a cube,
the only thing I'd change:
has not changed since I first told you;
then we held each other asleep
as one breath.
I still cry at night.
Nine years I had that car.


6

Back with Bús Éireann
trying not to fall asleep.
Again.
Jabber Alexander Oct 2015
He invades the bureau,
census is terminal
they say everyone died just like we wanted,
mission success!
like when Ali beat spinx
cordial still morbid
like quartered limbs delivered by horses
still door nail coffins shut, dark as oil spills
the grim reap creeps up
to put hex on exxon,
he sneezes blood
then eats some sludge,
freezes time, then moves on.
Can you imagine?
Francis Sep 2016
Insomnia,
Insomnia,
I wish that you would die.
Why is it that you ****** me?
You laugh as you make me cry.

Feelings that help conspire,
My heart to skip a beat.
The pressure of my blood rises higher,
To cure my sadness I continue to eat.

A monster grows inside of me,
His name I do not know.
All of this peculiar controversy,
Conspiracies begin to grow.

Not knowing who or what I am,
I start to lose my head.
While my head forms
it's acidic jam,
It soaks up into my bed.

Deadly forces fight inside,
My brain stops it's function.
Unconventional disfunctions collide,
Like a sentence without conjunction.

Distancing myself from society,
I'll sleep forever lonely.
Friends are like your enemies,
So late to realize they're phony.

Love has been lost,
Some time ago.
I wish I had a companion.
Misery,
Inside of me.
A woman's touch will make,
This loneliness inside of me go.

Questioning the nature of humanity,
I feel I'm betraying the lord.
Constant coexisting insanity,
Starts when one becomes bored.

Boarding up these windows,
The storm rolls in above.
As peers become your hated foes,
Hate transformed from love.

Waking up this very day,
I notice a familiar sensation,
Every dawn is like today,
With no spontaneous creation.

Night comes about,
I fail to sleep,
Instead I start to shout.
Counting sheep,
Is useless,
As my heart fails to grout.

Insomnia,
Insomnia,
Why won't you let me be?
Too many things exhaust my mind.
I'd like to go to sleep.
I must take note,
of how the people lie,
their dastardly twists and turns,
their shifting and conflicting emotions,
spiraling out of C O N T R O L,
their faces grim, as the enigma is made,
they paradoxed their words and actions, and all I,
and all I am for, it a laughter under my mask.

I must take note,
for if I don't, I won't be able to detect a group's actions,
they could cause the destruction of my dynasty,
I had set up in my mind,
I deliberately made a world of hope for those who need it,
I who is king, I who is God,
I, who is the only citizen,
they must not find out, and corrupt it,
for I will go hysterical.

I must take note,
of the weather,
what makes the spherical mass in space,
and the biodiversity in it continue to go forward,
for the blades of grass that cut me like a knife,
or the indifference of the flowers lovers give to us,
or the emotions, the physical strain,
that is made within the weather,
how my bones ache in the sun,
and how my emotions contrast in the rain.

I must take not,
or I shall parish,
or I shall meet my demise,
whether it be at the hands of the blades of grass,
or the conspiracies made from the liars,
or the people,
for I will meet my expiry,
the storybooks have told me so.
whoops wrote again
this iS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LET ME LISTEN TO THE OFF OST.
wandabitch Nov 2012
as a dreamer, in a particle splits the path of thought,
like mud under my fingernails and crystal shells.
Arkansas is driving me insane
come one come all she's the
fare-st if you fall.

neck burned as a fingerprint, itches sore in trash days,
conspiracies and deputies
looking still more strange.

can determined minds build a staircase of reason?
up to a future, teasing
me out in the open
with your temper words.
It is up, to the mind,
to take out thoughts, and divide,
all the truth, from the lies,
we are fed, while alive.

For the truth, it will hide,
behind fear, and its lies,
it becomes, hard to find,
so we must, use our minds.

Over time,
it has changed.
History,
rearranged.

Faults by man,
lost in time.
Cover up,
all our crimes.

Generations,
lied to.
By people,
like me and you.

It is up, to the mind,
to take out thoughts, and divide,
all the truth, from the lies,
we are fed, while alive.

For the truth, it will hide,
behind fear, and its lies,
it becomes, hard to find,
so we must, use our minds.

Conspiracies,
built on lies.
**** the truth,
watch it die.

It's time to,
open our eyes.
It's time to,
realize the lies.

It is up, to the mind,
to take out thoughts, and divide,
all the truth, from the lies,
we are fed, while alive.

For the truth, it will hide,
behind fear, and its lies,
it becomes, hard to find,
so we must, use our minds.

Don't let the lies,
penetrate your mind.
Because over time,
they can hypnotize,
they can hypnotize,
they can hypnotize,
the weak mind.  

They can hypnotize,
they can hypnotize,
they can hypnotize,
the weak mind.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Jay Pandey Sep 2018
No matter however many conspiracies life weaves,
Whatever tricks it may have up its sleeve,
All the hardships i will cheerfully heave,
I have and will always believe!.

I believe that walking through storms,
Only makes a person clean.
I believe that  starving only reforms,
And makes a person fit and lean.
Chatting cold conspiracies from across the coffee table.

Pangaea on the rocks - sweet, sober, civil silence.

When did the degradation become so severe?

Time ticks down and friendships fade to acquaintances.

Spine tingling tempo of the pitter-patter rain drop percussion.

Galloping triplets trickling down from the temples of thunder.

Hands of the clock clap in celebration of another hour killed.

Two o’ clock Coca-Cola to crown the king of carbonation *****.

Naming off artists to impress the drunken temptress.

Taunting the room filled with glimmer-eyed, lovestruck libidos.

All the kids are struggling to remember the horoscope they skimmed.

Brains drained to the point of puking in mouths, poisoning the passion.

With whiskey laced erections, this night chants a swansong.

Illegal lane changes and tiptoe key turning roustabouts.

The Hubble eye can’t detect the silent thoughts left hidden.

Dreams within dreams, lost in a cloud of exhaled acceptance.

Tonight, you fizzled, and tonight, you sleep alone.

These are the danger days. Timber!
When I read this, I always lead on that it was written drunk. Some silly fun that I hope you enjoy.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
a.

227.9 million years away
                   (mars)                   heliocentric model
i.e. away from coordinates (0,0), i.e. the sun

b.

149.6 million years away
                      (earth)                         "               "
etc.

c.

    standard metric system, alternatively
                        this is the geocentric model emerging
i.e.        one day on earth is equivalent
           of a day and forty minutes on Mars...
  we don't have access
                     to a heliocentric model for this
primarily because of the coordinate of the sun
being (0,0), in Kantian symbolism 0 = denial,
therefore the sun cannot encompass day,
or night, hours or minutes...
                             you cannot apply
the relativity of days comparatively being different
on Mars or on Earth using the heliocentric model...
              
      and to think, all it took was for nautical directions
being blessed by the movement of constellations,
        and that phrase of mine: where's Copernican east?

            we're all shouting at the ****** project,
it's either who write the best concentrated plagiarism
of the masses for the visual effects,
          the glued together parts of iron and oxygen
tanks... or who can write the words behind the images
well enough to capture the imagination
        and shift it elsewhere...
oh believe me, i am living in a 48 hour week,
    i'm not writing science fiction,
                       i'm on earth, but this isn't earth,
it doesn't require a measure of distance,
   but still the figures stand... so i might as well
toy with them and get some bogus answer...

d.

what does life constitute on a "planet" that consists
of 48 hours?
                     today i put on something warm,
the cold finally got to me,
                          i'm the butterfly while a hurricane
rages on elsewhere,
                              quantum humanism some call it,
because the physics never really inclined itself
to treat human emotions well enough -
                    just today,
as i peered into the day's sky -
                     the moon and the sun shared the same
blue horizon -
                           in the summer the moon has the
tides - and keeps them at bay, calm,
         but when autumn and winter come,
and the earth tilts - the moon looses the grip on
the tides in the northern hemisphere -
hurricanes in the west, tsunamis in the east,
              storms at Greenwich meantime -
the time of day? when the moon engages in
profane acts with day, appearing and stunning
insomniacs into coherency, as if asking:
            so if i am being given a very quick
and less romantic sunrise, and esp. a less
romantic sunset, by seeing the moon closely aligned
to the sun during the day:
                 am i seeing the nightly delights of
the southern hemisphere, and if so,
            is that to the east, or is that to the west?
i am guessing it's to the east... for i am seeing
the night in the southern Pacific continent -
              i am seeing their night
                          for the moon has transgressed
its boundaries, and left the northern waters
ready to rebel under the polytheistic guise
complimenting the spacious orbs -
                       when order and monotheism of
the north during spring and summer...
         then Poseidon's upheavals with the watery
rebellious graves during autumn and winter:
or how Hades persuaded his two brothers to
pay due and meet with the Titans in Tartarus:
to thus form a pact against the monotheistic concept:
for the soul of the ancient Greeks said:
                shame be unto you, brats,
for shunning the religion of your forefathers!

e.

indeed the 48 hour day, two days and two nights,
or more precisely: three nights and one day -
sooner or later they'll push the clocks back,
a man will go to sleep in the dark,
   and catch but a glimmer of a day - then too
thrown into the darkness: a 48 hour day on a planet
involves three periods of darkness, and one
period of daylight - and if they said Alaska was
torture... here is a man engulfed alone in it.

f.

strange to think that 78.3 million years between
Mars and Earth only add 40 minutes more to a day...
           as ever, the non-uniform suggestion of gravity,
take but one step on that soil,
                           the curse of the astronauts on the moon:
and then invite the poets of the cult of the moon,
the emblem of the moon that's Islam...
                              an then wait for the consequences
and the ***** dreams of those people and their children...
               even the Atom Bomb seems to have
been forgiven by comparison -
                                but never the moon: or the death
of childhood - lunar crown shattered -
                              death of storytelling for children
some might say: 1001 minutes of advertisement
before Cyrus starts weaving a web of entrenched
consumerism - not even the Belgian fields
and their world war 1 trenches could have provided
such a status quo to continue...
            to continue...

g.

so do i multiply that figure by something?
78.3 million years disparity -
                        times the time difference?
i.e. 78.3 multiplied by 40 and added to
the distance from earth?
            λoγος - no!
                                 what's the distance from
starting coordinate (0,0) to the earth? 149.6 million...
      and mars?
227.9 million...
                                      which means 78.3 multiplied
by taking away the negation symbol due
to the double-negation coordinate that the sun is
(timeless and without space-affirming
                  timing to our necessary comprehension
of the day to day) - meaning the distance
of the planet with 48 hour days (three nights and one
day) is 313.2 million years away from the sun...
               Jupiter stands at being 778.5 million years...
and that's a kept in ****... a gaseous giant...
                 so the distance is plausible...
but like i said before: first comes logic,
which splits into rationality and irrationality -
                      but irrationality still uses logic -
      we all know that irrationality is not reasonable -
          but it is ably-reasoned-with
           or can succumb to some variation
                     of the illogical -
                                              namely illogical rationality:
as in passing Platonic theories down the ages,
or succumbing to the Freudian psychoanalysis -
fashion is simpler, cruder -
                                               it cuts off the missing
points, it desecrates the shrines of famous names
and does the grand thing of keeping everyone
hooked in, rather than out of it nostalgic -
       no one is really winning either side of this point.

h.

and this is really what two beers can do to you
to relax after living on plant H-48 -
                     no yoga teacher can tell you that ***
gets better when you pay alms to this world -
         the yoga fakes are making enough dosh laughing:
*** is good, where there's a billion of them,
not a scattering of what i call the real reason
why we evolved to be so numerous:
     cancerous libidos, or overblown libidos,
   and a knack at ******* each other off - which just
says: keep 'em coming!
                                    and they expect people to really
be awe-stricken when you have such nice names
in biology: chlorophyll and enzyme and hydro and
aqua... and for all life to begin with a big bang?
    i thought you couldn't hear astronauts scream
in space?        or maybe that big bang was just
       a big boo - because aren't we **** scared?

i.

American politics has cracked with this presidential
election, the real dynamic is out...
           it reminds me of
the trinity of ******, the brown-shirts
(Sturmabteilung) thugs leader Ernst Röhm
and the man that replaced him:
               Heinrich Himmler of the
less thuggish and more professional murderers'
brigade the (Reichsführer Schutzstaffel) -
you see, i actually have a better attention span
when i live on H-48... did you notice
that neither of the presidential candidates mentioned
the literature in their debates?
one said: tax evasion, the other said: emails!
but these two sly foxes are toying with the whole
process... they're citing the literature...
   tim kaine and mike pence are the geniuses behind
the scenes... you have to give credit to them...
                it's the ingrained discussion -
the gospels -           it subconsciously will even convince
black voters (of a certain age) to vote for Trump,
regardless of his blunders... which are like ******'s
blunders even though Eva Braun has Jewish heritage
(as seen in one documentary on channel 4) -
                    and you know they're running the show
because they only have one debate...
         that's how important they are...
                       did you ever care to watch a
Ingram Bergman film twice? or three times?
i don't think so. once... and then the butterfly is gone,
gone gone. i'm not here for the entertainment -
American protestant-ism isn't European,
                          it's ultra-Catholic -
                    oddly enough, not in terms of all
the iconic symbolism - that's scaled down -
       but the message is profoundly Catholic -
the two men cited the literature - they're
not thugs, they're not blundering rhetoricians like
the two puppets in their hands...
                        they're the power brokers
or what in England we call the kingmakers -
   i'm not into conspiracies, just the obvious things -
****** had a funny moustache,
          Trump has a funny haircut -
J F K was handsome L B J wasn't and was furious
when Marilyn sang the birthday blues...
                   Gerald Ford is the founder of the Mafia...
Nixon wanted in... oops... didn't happen...
                    ever since Ford it's been playtime after
playtime and no one doing the arithmetic on lives -
               well you know, a washing machine
breaks down, you get a new one...
                  but something came up at the turn
of the 21st century, no one expected it -
this is where i only ascribe one conspiracy:
                                         you can't miss it,
it's blatantly there on the geographical map,
S.A. and that beautiful ornament flag with a pretty
sword and Arabic calligraphy...
                             i'm not wetting my appetite with
these words... it's just common sense -
                money is something that provides the
trans-valuation of all things: it's what the alchemists
were always hoping to find, but it was found
so long ago that it didn't matter how childish they
thought they could be: thanks for paracetamol
though...
                                     what's actually the most
mystifying aspect of this is how there's an ingrained
desirability of a status quo:
      you can have a coin with Rex's head on it,
and no matter what the base metal is,
it will still devalue something more precious
                     and increase value of something more
precious...               it happens in the art world
with the artist being recognised posthumously
                                for the object of his work,
but nothing beyond that...
                                              and since it is painfully
obvious... the question is...
                     do you challenge the status quo
                                          or do you consider yourself
a unit of qua                 -
                                   and that's an open question,
if a question at all...
                                        it's because i have left the
exciting part of this poem,
                                    gravity pulled me down to
planet H-24 (otherwise known as earth), and i see
all this ****** misery...
                                       and i think...
even though my life on planet H-48 can sometimes
feel like torture - i know that i'm in control of
certain perks on it...           and all because i decided
to travel there, with one missing clue as to
why it took me 2 years to escape Heidegger's Alcatraz -
            and why i decided to go back in...
      after reading the previously mentioned book
i realised i was given the key into something else,
           kaleidoscopic even -
worded physics, worded chemistry, worded biology,
  not the physics of equations, or chemistry
of electron-migration diagrams in organic reactions,
or biology and its oops after oops and
a boxing match with theology -
                                           i even considered
buying the Alcatraz in English... but that would
make no sense...
                         given the already bilingual dynamic
being established...
                                     as Dante chose Virgil
to wade through hell... you too must also choose
the one companion, and reject all others...
               and if Heidegger chose Aristotle
i must choose Heidegger - and would i say that
my grandfather was a bad man for being a
communist party member? do you think
a small town boy gets sold the highest form of
Versailles intrigue that culminates in
the Siberian gulag? they got you spinning that old
housewives' tale like a dodo doing dodo
                                           rather than being dodo.
Derekis Feb 2015
Live on.. live long..
against all the conspiracies.
Drive far, dive deep..
escaping all that you hold dear.

Running away from your perpetual fears,
hiding from the gaze of your judgmental peers,
restoring safety by going through anonymity's cloud
into the darkness, the scream chills aloud.

Mirror's eyes behold my shape,
it reflects feelings of other's hate.
Unable to find a place to escape,
doors locked all around but the cemetery gate.

I can feel myself being incomplete,
being nothing but a piece of meat.
Acknowledging the potential in me,
My only wish is for it to break free.

But stuck in my own darkness
I lie crying behind that heavy door
between the cowardly sheep and the lion's roar.
This started out as someone giving advice to someone else but then realizing the giver and the taker were one and the same.
Declin James Feb 2010
Fallen words roll steadily of his tongue,
as he sings and swings upon the strings
of a love song that is about to be sung.
But before this song begins, let me remained you,
it is foiled by the sins of useless hearts,
breaking the strings of the violins
that once seemed so pure and clear.

When will you realise, that love like politics
is nothing but a front.
So forget the conspiracies, tear up the theories
of sonnets, both old and young,
and ones that are yet to be sung.

Because that smile, that you think emulates the sun
and creates emotions of fun, right from day one.

Is a nonentity.  

With a slightly snarled pursed lip
Pursuing sweet nothing, yet your heart stays eclipsed
and you lean in to kiss.

Then 10 months down the line, you here a chime
you open your eyes, she’s gone, you’re out of time,
and finally you realise,
Love is like politics, it’s nothing but a front.
lessons of life's sanctity,
clarity of reason
and chastity
elude
the sociopath unglued;

clouded lens
filtering threads
of sense
common from extreme,
relishing shreds of conspiracies
unfounded...

tying the falling dow and twin-towers...
to  call of duty and

the man....

in the slick blue suit
with the funny last name
sticking it to us,
stripping us of our  inalienable rights,
god-given,
taking our bibles and guns away
to mombasa

spiraling memes of dysfunction
programmed to propagate fallacies
in minds unhinged

on the fringes of reality...

like paranoiacs
sipping green tea

or a.m. fanatics
fueling the frenzy

of sociopaths unglued,
licensed to spill
sacred blood
of the masses

at a crowded school
or movie theater
near you

now previewing:

~ mass homicide XII
&
~ teenage terrorist in black - the sequel


home-grown
&
fully-loaded...

~ P (Pablo)
(8/5/2013)
Brian Andres Jan 2011
you'll never guess what i heard today
endless narratives
encapsulating pointless encounters
passing judgments
handing out ruthless commentary
life lessons
ridiculing those that are different
infringing on the delicate bounds of insanity
infinite meaningless utterances
thoughtful queries
timeless perceptions and interpretations
brilliant phonetics
postulating conspiracies
comical puns, quips, and jabs
underlying assumptions
fascinatingly deceptive and imaginative theories

i hear you
i hear everything you say
but all i needed
was for you to LISTEN

— The End —