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The Napkin Poet Dec 2016
Moisture permeates the air, a wet haze.
Stillness with anticipation, or tension.
Fresh air containing an aroma.
Natural and earthly,
Like giving into original temptation.

Through the fog she awaits my consumption.
Her taste lovely, like if love had a flavor.
An oozing box of sweet glaze, stands within a wet haze.
Tommy Randell Jan 2018
Now everything is twice
Twice as scarce and twice the price

Now everything is buy
Buy it to have it even just buy to try

Now everything is Stuff
Stuff to clutter and never Stuff enough

Now everything is lost
Lost all interest and lost the plot
A dark poem I know but some aspects of Xmas really **** with my head
Cné Nov 2017
Rise and shine, first thing in the morning walking past the mirror.
Avoiding its reflection, not wanting to see its reflective picture.
Kneeling in the shower, hands pressed tightly to her ribs.  
Who is this frightened child?  Does she even exist?  
She took a step back from the world, no one knew she was alive.  
Now she’s grasping at her life, just trying to survive.
A tainted childhood in shame now fragile bones from self abuse,
don’t blame her though, she was only a child confused.  
How did this happen?  When did this begin?  
She seemed so happy, or was that all pretend?  
She had started at 130, or so,
but felt as if she had lost control.
What happened to this dear sweet innocent child?  
Her idea of beauty and perfection had driven her wild.
Minus 25 later she was so close.  
Almost 100 without any clothes.  
No one would touch her, they thought she would break.  
She told herself she was content with that trade.
I was 18.
~
I’m much better now in my adult discipline
eating healthy 3 meals a day purely for consumption.  
Yesterday, I skipped dinner in lieu of drinking wine.
Today at noon, hovering over my breakfast, I resign
Some days I struggle. Some days I am not fine.
But ...
I will eat my breakfast, lunch and dinner.
And paint my pretty pictures.
This was a therapeutic write.
The darkness inside fills our outer demise in the skies
and when the darkness inside fills our soul and gives us a toll, we need to open our eyes
People around us, surround us, and their sounds are profound but the real issue,
Now the real issue is a lack of knowledge of what we do.

The light starts to hide away, and the soul keeps screaming, get away
It's tempered and it has something to say,
It's so confused and conceived in darkness that it now pushes those that can make it go, but it just goes astray
The darkness just unfolds and picks it's spot and there it will lay
And day by day can pass,
And you're busting your ***
Time is moving fast
and life can quickly pass.

Confinement is a toll that keeps our heaven on hold
We take the light, we toss it away for the darkness that is more bold
When light tries entering our life,
To try to warn us of the darkness,
The consumption doesn't like what it's told
As time passes and passes, we get more old
But what old is, keeps shrinking and shrinking.

Darkness vs Light, it really get's you thinking...
sir humbug Jun 2018
wear gloves on your hands,
leaving your eyes free to speculate
and your mind to record
the life of the plant;
and the life of the one who nurtures and tends

follow-from the fallow soil
to my edible plated consumption,
from the baby bud nipping
to sharp ***** shot at picking,
to my tongue licking
both your produce and you

you may feed me poems
when the real harvesting is done,
grown in your own private plot,
from you, my good fellow,
follow with love delivered to
my expecting fallow-soul,
awaiting your seeding me,
and I,  
you...
Bus Poet Stop Jun 2018
~for those who will read this and weep~

the quiet ones,
the silent Job ones,
who quote not from the
Book of Lamentations,
but author their own,
based on-the-Job experience

localized versions of cryptic elegiacs
accepting the wooden crosses borne,
stepping up to the
unrequested unforeseen,
then buried under, burnt alive,
yet never relieved by dying,
nailed by words, stronger than iron,
promises sworn, promises kept
with no ending date relief,
promises by and to themselves,
but not for themselves!


the wearers of crystal glass shackles,
adorned with decorative locks for which
no key did the maker make,
nor any divine creator
dare conceive an early release,
never no escape contemplated,
for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,
a decorative useless metaphor gesture,
a blunt “life *****” advertisement

I compose amidst a
bus pond of mismatched city folk,
a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,
none would believe that as the bus sways me,
it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,
hundreds year old,
divinity masses and motets worships,
where one human can hide temporarily
a safe house,
to calm his questioning relentless
from the horrors of no answers,
for when the mind has no solution
to the rough and tumbling lives,
lived in glass shackled confinement,
the poets desperation equals theirs


summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,
but the shackled refuse,
I come to them but they wave me off,
I go crazy for once I was enslaved,
thirty years war that left devastation,
from which so many poems created

so I speak with heightened regard
of one who planned futures for others where his
non-existence was a founding father (ha!)


but the day came and
I was released by my own inactions,
but means nothing until a way to
away found
to release the yet bound early


got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars
in my pocket and an unrelenting need
to save them, a consumption disease,
the glass shackled, at ease,
won’t rest till all are freed
this my creed
no one left behind

these cyber words do not mock
for they are unbounded, set free,
when
the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh
are stronger for they are in heart conceived
bob Apr 2018
Leaves the gate unlocked.
No need to knock.
No need to make a payment
on the hood of her car
for when the curtain's drawn

enter

and there on the kitchen counter
a cocktail waiting
for my consumption
on an island coaster
made of bamboo.

From the backroom
she calls over Marley's
No Woman No Cry
come here, baby.
And I do.
Maddie Cribbs Jan 24
Consumption--
Egocentric narcissist.
That you are.
Father, remarkably absorbed.

Two years young, I was.
Fresh eyes welcomed to agony.
First held in the arms of love then passed into
The meaningless fingertips so sharp of an alcoholic.

A woman purely giving birth.
One, two, three,
Fourth I was.
An illusion she lived;
You nastily allured.

Three kids, alright.
But four?
I guess you had enough.

A turn.
A sight.
Dad, where’d you go?
One step you took
Closer to the ***** you consumed.

A better life we were off,
Until visitation rights ate us alive.

The liquor may have consumed you,
But nothing is worse than,
You, my father,
Consuming my soul;
My worth.

Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Alternating weekends.
Rivers streamed into oceans,
Caving into black holes
Into the dusk of ****,
We involuntary inflicted.

Wrongfully done, you lived.
Can’t take back the past you chose,
Not one this big.
Left alone four kids who were your own.

A vision I imagined.
A father insight.
Loved and protected,
All out of sight.

Lies.
Hurtful lies carved in deep.
Flesh and bone, I disintegrated.
Kara Jean Feb 2018
I am thoughtless speech
I am a reckless belief
I see beneath
The dead installed
controlled with no advance
I am doubt
My heart is in need
I am consumption left empty
I am free inhabited by fear
I am nothing
I am in everything
I am the more to my ego
NC Burchett Jun 2018
trapped in consumer relations
gilded gluttons gorged
on popular culture
preservered with consumption
then celebrated with consumption
only held precious metals
smelted bars, minted coins
like plaque in the arteries
as the market beat on
She said those words
'Let's be friends'
If I never hear
those ******* words again
I swear to God
it would be too soon
Comical words
invoking cartoon
characters that are
kooky and dumb
Because that's where
these filthy words are from

You must take me for a wide-eyed naive
Or an escapee of the mentally insane
ward of a prison or "hospital"
or whatever politically correct term it's called

You can take your friendship
and shove it up your ***
I know,
I'm sorry
Such a statement has no class
It's crass
But I don't give a ****
I'm angry right now
For a moment
I had hope
You got back in somehow

I built such sturdy walls
grand and tall
Made you stand outside
Press that intercom button to call
Kept you at a distance
But time turns scar tissue dull
You smiled and you waited
Baited me into a lull

We'd hang and talk
You'd smile and laugh
Hours upon hours
the time would pass
So comfortable; So easy
Something others don't have
Thoughts and dreams start again
But Nope,
Sorry! Too bad!

A forgotten feeling
Also an ember burning deep
High hopes birth expectations
That you did not want to meet
'It's just complicated right now'
Some ******* that you say
Oh! Okay! That makes everything better now
Hip-hip-hooray!

You were just being honest
Saying how you felt
It was me with the problem
A hand of cards that were self dealt
All the work I had done
The counseling and the meds
Heart-to-heart talks
Many books I have read
Feeling so confident
but overconfident I was
Unaware of the noise
A teeth shattering buzz
Blindly I stood
with the answers there for me
Head in the sand
Look away; don't want to see

You cast your spell
spelling danger to me
Who is this stranger
standing before me?
I can't stand the pain
A fire inside
can not be tamed
Turn in fear; Run and hide
Standing on my brain
Ferocious creature
Your talons slice and maim
Submissive student for my teacher

My entrails ripped out
Further entailed
A slow disembowelment
Entangling sails
Organs on sale
Detailed disembodiment
Pipe *****'s funeral march
Start understanding what you meant

'Only fools love'
you said to me once
Thought I knew what you meant
Had an inkling or a hunch
But not a ******* clue
is the sad, sad truth
Your forked-tongue spit it's venom
Words used to sooth

Mask after mask
you pulled from your face
Never the truth
Confused in a daze
You grasped with tentacles
Ensnared with your web
Lies are your candy
I was endlessly fed

My mind a toy
Not anything more
My heart for your consumption
***** kept in a drawer
Rip me apart
Please tear me down
Your never-ending heartache
I'll choke in and drown

Under your foot
Under your thumb
An insect; A maggot
Piece of dirt; Lowly ****
What am I now?
What have I become?
What was I to begin with?
A child on the run
Running with fear
You made my heart run
Mouth running had your ear
My torture was your fun

Should I call you a '*****'?
Smear your name? Shout out '*****!'
Would that equal out the playing field?
Somehow even the score?
Playing games, put on pause
Maybe save for later
But there's no saving this time
Tend each need; I am your waiter
Forever I'll wait
so endlessly I am waiting
Madly love you
Yet for me, I am hating

Thunderous booms
The sky streaked with light in veins
War is raging all around us
and in the balance we remain
Here I remain
even though there's no balance
Must be insane
Have me committed to this mess

You are a jigsaw puzzle
with half completed pieces in my mind
The rest of it a jumble
The other pieces I can't find
The nervous dog who is confused
I follow your commands
Unfulfilled, I'm simply used
Didn't go the way I planned

Now to me you speak
as you tell me so much more
of the textbook cliche nonsense
Told a million times before
You feign heartfelt sincerity,
interest and concern
Who you care for is a short list
It's as if I'll never learn

There was a version that before
was living at one time I think
But nothing in this life is free
As rain pours down, in mud we sink
So proudly I strut and adorn
my stunning hand-made concrete shoes
The complimentary attire
fitting all the bad I choose

Now frozen here
as I am kept
unkempt in this very dark place
Place marker for my maker
Marks
Without a mark
An unmarked
grave
Written: March 8, 2018

All rights reserved
Krysel Anson Sep 2018
Through the thunderstorms and mountains
of an urban jungle. Luna met
his lover. By sunrise,
he has forgotten
her name, and had to go, unknowing she has
dissolved into him a long, long time ago.

"In wisdom, Elohim created the world.
So man may grow in spirit, another
human was made from his rib
and called woman. What was one
was divided into two so they may
know themselves better."

Only in this separation and
stranger distance, their delicate essential
song. Consummated into
the oceans as if for refuge.

As he leaves the building to catch a bus home,
he passes by a newsstand. On a business
section: A Japanese company seeks
to formalize commercial mass Whale
killings for consumption.
Summer 2018
Possum living Oct 2018
To one, a noxious ****, but to her the building block of civilization.

Her children would starve before trying another.

Eradicated by heedless consumption.

Their future is uncertain, but we can help them along.

One patch at a time.
Steve Jun 2018
Tired of living in a false paradise of consumption,
suffering everyday our labored prostitution,
trade in your hours for a handful of scraps,
smile while your master puts the cigar out on your back,
this is the workers symphony,
aching joints, aching psyche,
smothered with whiskey to **** the pain,
our autonomous freedom we'll never regain,
***** till you die, laugh till it hurts, your meaning in life, to merely survive,
collect your checks week after week, creative minds stomped out, just smile and drink,
be a good ***** except your fate,
it's just the way it is boy get back in your place,
we gravel in dispair, they spit in our face,
we waste our lives away,
on our hands and knees we just smile and drink,
thinking about breaking these chains,
it's punishable by law,
authority laughs when you die slow for your keep,
with your eyes wide shut,
don't wake your slumber,  
it's all a bad dream,
just go back to sleep,
and forget life's blunder
Kat Aug 2018
I.
The armless maiden was your favorite bed-time story.

He ties my hands behind my back while my heart sings:

Here he comes! My king of the Nile!

For whom I will fight the gods with my womanly magic,

the spells of a women who’s eager to wield away

swollen lips and stained sheets

and her stained soul.

Let me tell you a tale of consumption,

of the flame and the burnt child:

He shoots an arrow into the darkness

and I beg to run after it.



II.

Cinderella is hanging from the ceiling. Her body dancing in crystal light.
Funny,
how it reminds me of the pink tutu still somewhere in my closet.

Never the graceful ballerina or the mother of the falcon,

only the princess in rags, even clumsy in my desperation,

even unable to make you smile a little.

My shakal faced God, my butcher,

you who giveth and taketh.
responding to dead poets
maya Aug 2018
baby teeth glisten and gleam
in bags on the street.
you scream

a noise so loud it pierces
the heart of even the fiercest.

the tunnel caves in and fills
with the sorrow that is brought
by that which is art,

involuntarily made for consumption.
the general assumption
rings true.

everything around is art
except you.
Sam Bowden Dec 2018
Shucking oysters is a dangerous task.
Only skilled, determined hands may apply.
Why so dangerous a task you ask?
Well, let’s see?
There’s the salt, the grit, the unforgiving need...
the slips, the stabs, the you and the me.
Our boats rock along a forlorn sea.

Sitting on the dock of my mind,
the sun's rays slap me sober,
as it refuses to set for seven hundred thousand nights....

Patiently present in the moment, I am, totally attuned to the task at hand.

She's anything but simple,
this complexly succulent woman I've stumbled upon,
Unearthed I have, with my bare hands.
Rugged exterior, jagged edges,
a clear warning for all to see.
But a gorgeous glory awaits the determined, the brave, the patient,
I have faith....

I have faith in such a glory beyond legend, in such beauty beyond reason.
Just because something feels like a miracle doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
For if jade kissed a pearl as it slipped into the sea, it still wouldn't rival her beauty.
We are a meeting of minds that could unfurl for all time.
As she lines her eyes in paint,
and stains her lips like crimson art,
she's always ready for war,
launching a thousand ships in my heart.

Like Odysseus, I've sailed past contentment, and now I only want more.
Eros, the bittersweetness.
I want to live with you in the gap between consumption and desire,
between ice and fire.

Unknowingly, I have peeled the wall paper from her frame,
where ancient tapestries shown from beneath.
The scars cut deep into the fabric, marks of carelessness in love.
The family ties that tear, the tears of lovers once here, now there.
Warmth gives way to wind,
and fire gives way to need.
She pulls me close, then pushes me back, rocking along a forlorn sea.

And like the sea,
she breathes life into me,
and hope into my lungs,
roiling my blood to the surface.
A great tempest of my heart with fury that blows past the mind.

Tame, tame, squeeze, let go.

Still though,
questions fray at the edges of her mind,
and yet,
with the passage of time,
the sea will settle,
the tide will recede.
I have faith in love.
And faith in me.   

Sure footed I am, and I know it.
Dodging rain drops,
dashing through the city,
hand-in-hand, we don't slip.

But while I sip, I think;
“She's anything but simple,
this dandelion seed,
floating in the wind.
Walls up, head down,
a determined doctor,
a surgeon steeled for the journey,
thawing beneath me she is...”

“The most beautiful immigrant I've ever seen;
On the platform of her mind,
she longs for a home, leagues from her homeland,
while I scratch at the dirt of my own.
Do I belong here?
Does she? Do we?
Where is home? Security? Acceptance? Belonging?
Who knows what the futures holds? Allahu alam, not you or me.”

Uncertain of answers,
is this a mirage or a dream?
I can’t know for sure,
So I take heart in the Unseen.
I ***** the oyster open,
and swallow it inside.
I sip life's ambrosia,
and breathe in the sky.
Ill ***** The Pearl of Persia,
one kiss at a time.
The epicurean experiment is over.
The absence of pain is not happiness.
The consumption of ******* need not be
inherently bad, but for the present state of affairs.
If the condition brought about by a chemical could be
held in mind, its mindset prolonged, then redosing need not
be so gratuitous. Indeed, pharmacological determinism is false.

Indeed, all one wants is the good
(and would presume to better).

Indeed, there are faults in theories
and flaws in character.

Indeed, we are here
and by virtue of our similarities
we are all together.
bythesea Apr 2018
to unravel myself from these winter burrows
i might need to warm my chest with my own sun.
they call on night sometimes,
how well do you know it.

(how much longer can you go
without seeing your homeland?)
your memories are fading too quickly for you


that was your life once!


to stay here now means forever.
you've wrapped me up in dark blankets
ravelled me, cupped me into your body
but you are my enemy
your warmth is not a kind gesture


i know that so well!


i'm beginning to miss my ocean.
i've sent my pride to the sea so long ago
and now she's there floating in the water,
waiting for me.


you will never be the saint you see.
(i know that so well)
my ancient mothers can even feel
their ancient recipes crumbling, waiting for my consumption. so i need to do more with my hands.


ancient mother, teach me how to mend.

how to tend to a heart tenderly, how to love.
i want to love
i want to feel
i want to move
i want to breathe
i want to sigh
i want to spin
i want to drive
i want to cry and mend and love and move and breathe

holy mother-
do you see her through the window like i do?

please, can you feed her eyes and her mouth for me before she forgets
how to
Marya123 Feb 27
I could never tell the world of my poems
If they knew who I really, truly am
If this name was real, my virtual mask gone
They'd be surprised, and treat me like a scam
Who would spend time reading these heavy lines,
Without questions or making assumptions?
No one likes poems these days, I've asked them all
They prefer those words made for consumption.
So I'll keep the veil on, now, forever
Thankful for those people here I don't know
They read my work, and look past the disguise
To a girl seen fighting to write and grow.
Andrew Jun 2017
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****?
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty

I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious

So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes

When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Homunculus Feb 7
As with everything else in American life, the national government is just another commodity packaged for mass consumption. We're all being spoon fed a spectacular narrative which by its very nature is designed to evoke the passions.

Every day, someone gets on TV and says or does something which provokes outrage, drawing the viewer in like the iridescent lure of an angler fish, and keeping them hooked just long enough for the hypnotic messages of the corporate sponsors to burrow their way into the collective consciousness between "newscasts."

It is precisely for this reason that these frivolous displays SELL like hotcakes. There's no government going on here. There hasn't been for who knows how long? All that is left is BUSINESS. Raw and unfettered. The United States of America is now nothing more than a 'reality' show, and boy, I tells ya, the revenue stream is OH, SO LUCRATIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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