"contractual" poems
Sa dami ng mga trabahong tumambak dahil hindi mo pa nagagawa
Mga papeles na nagpatung-patong na
Yung lamesa **** inaagiw na dahil hindi mo alam kung saan at paano magsisimula.
At mga istoryang di mo pa maisulat dahil nangangapa ka pa.
Isama mo na rin yung katrabaho **** nakakairita na sa tenga.
Dahil crush niya daw si Justin Bieber
At paborito niyang frappe sa Starbucks ay Caramel.
Kahit mukhang ang afford niya lang ay Nescafe “Oo nga pala, French Vanilla” na iniinom ni Toni Gonzaga.
Pero wala siyang pambili ng sarili niyang tumbler.
Tangina.
Idagdag mo pa ang mga patay na oras na sunod-sunod ang mga buntong-hininga
Nahuli ka pa ng boss mo na nakatulala
Kaya hayan at napagalitan ka pa.
At dahil contractual ka, yung limang buwan na kontrata mo
Biruin mo, baka mapaaga pa ang endo.
Aminin mo na ang pagpatak ng alas-singko
Ay may kakaibang dalang saya.
Na parang sumagot na ng “oo” yung matagal mo nang nililigawan.
Nakulayan na rin yung mga pinlano niyong outing na buong akala niyo’y hanggang drawing na lang.
Parang pagbabalik sa Pilipinas ng kasintahan **** kumayod sa ibang bansa.
Parang ibinalita sa TV na hindi traffic ngayon sa EDSA.
Himala!
Kaya ang pagsapit ng alas-singko ay kakambal ng paglaya.
Wala sa’yo kung sa bus man ay tayuan
O kaya sa dyip ay makasabit man lang.
Basta makauwi ka lang.
Nakakasabik pa rin ang ideya
Na ang bawat pag-uwi
Ay kasing banayad ng mayroong sasalubong sa’yong ngiti
Mga ngiting papawi sa kangalayan ng mga binti.
Mayroong yakap na nakaabang
Ang mga bisig na nagmistulang pinakapaborito **** kulungan
Dahil doon mo nararamdaman ang tunay na kalayaan.
Mula sa pang-aalipin sa’yo ng lipunan.
Nakahain na rin ang hapunan.
“Mahal, ano ba ang ulam?”
Sabayan natin ito ng mahabang kwentuhan.
Simulan natin sa simpleng kamustahan.
Dahil pagkatapos, ay aabangan mo na naman ang alas-singko kinabukasan.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
Bilang na ang aking maliligayang araw.
dalawa na lang. Kung isasama yung pangakong panlilibre ng lomi
ng mga kasamahan sa pabrika sa unang restday matapos ang endo-
tatlo. At ganito pala ang feeling ng may taning.
Para kang nasa nilulumot na aquarium na walang oxygen
at goldfish kang kasama ng dalawang golden arowana.
Hindi ka makahinga.
Sa a kinse, matuloy man o hindi ang balitang super-bagyo
Tapos na ang limang buwang kontrata.
Matatapos na rin ba ang hindi naumpisahang pagsinta?
Tulad ng paghahanap ng mga skater sa kanilang skate park,
matatagpuan ko rin ba ang lakas loob at habambuhay na hindi na?
Kaya naman kaninang tanghalian, wala akong kwentong maihain sa iyo.
Parang habambuhay ko ngang uubusin yung inorder kong BBQ
kanin at RC.
Paano ko ba sasabihing baka isa na ito sa huling dalawang tanghalian na sabay tayong kakain?
Paano ko ba sasabihin na sa maraming pagkakataon na sabay tayong kumakain,
nagtitipid ako at hindi naman talaga ako nagugutom.
Gusto lang kita makasama kasi parang gusto na kita.
Pero tulad ng inililihim kong pagtatapos ng aking kontrata
Hindi mo alam.
Hindi mo alam na ikaw ang dahilan kung bakit masarap ang simoy ng hangin sa loob ng pabrika
kahit wala naman talagang bintana at inuubong industrial fan lang ang meron tayo.
Hindi mo alam kung anong kapanatagang nararamdaman ko
tuwing sinasabihan mo akong mag-iingat ako
tuwing uwian kahit ang totoo, hindi natin kakilala ang kaligtasan
at kapanatagan sa pabrikang walang fire exit
at benefits.
Yun talaga yun, hindi mo alam.
Pero alam mo naman sigurong salot talaga ang kontraktwalisasyon?
At maramot talaga sa mga lovestory nating mga below-minimum-wage-earners
at contractual workers ang sistema ng paggawa sa Pilipinas.
Sa mga susunod na bukas, ikaw naman ang mag-e-endo.
Baka mapunta ka sa Savemore na tadtad din ng kontraktwal.
At masnatch ang numero mo at hindi na kita matatawagan.
At ako, baka sa hirap humanap ng trabaho maisangla ko ang aking telepono.
At isang monumentong singlaki ng Mall of Asia ang itatayo sa pagitan nating dalawa.
Kasalanan ito ni Ernesto Hererra.
Aug 2, 2015
Aug 2, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
To some it’s all conjectural,
Philosophically conceptual.
You think you’re intellectual
But your reasoning is ineffectual.
Reviled both by heterosexuals
Insulted as well by homosexuals
And some ugly issues contractual
We are the besmirched bisexuals.
While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.
The straights tell us we must decide
Then put the other gender aside.
The complaints range far and wide
Even gay people opt to deride.
We don’t feel welcomed anywhere inside.
Why doesn’t tolerance coincide
When nobody seems to take our side?
It’s freedom, get on the bus and ride.
While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.
We know, after years of research
Gender choice is not learned in church.
It can be shaped with rods of birch
But those are better for birds to perch.
Denying us freedom is an ugly lurch
Past including truth in a morality search.
Back to when we were ruled by a church
And any variance was besmirched.
While it is the opposite of equality
It is the essence of our reality,
A warped straight-centric morality
Based on a Christianist plurality.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 3:01 PM UTC
He lives in a time of plague.
The tag team of cholera and dedication killed his father, for all Dr. Juvenal Urbino knows, his father was faithful to both work and love.
The good doctor knew from an early age that his work would be his love, and from a slightly less tender age he discovered that his love of flesh and the body ran deeper than mere science could take him.
He met Fermina Daza in the doorway between clinical curiosity and obsession over her doe’s gait, and as he walked through his heart made room for a new kind of dedication.
He thought his devotion would be equally as precise as his practice.
Fifteen or so years of marriage, between years in Paris they bled together like a Van Gogh after a rainshower, the intricacies of their companionship were jointly held in a contractual cradle, but neither of them felt obligated.
Dr. Urbino was before my time, but my story will know the life of Carlos Mucharraz, Pre-Med major, they both dedicate themselves to their love. I’ve never seen her, but I can imagine Carlos likens her gait to that of a doe. He fawns over her from 17 hours away, for nearly a year.
Like a Texas dust devil, he sends his love through the air to Minneapolis to brighten her phone screen and her day.
They’ve only ever spent time together twice.
I’d like to think of his devotion like a boulder, immovable, but twisters slither across prairies as wicked winds push them towards seas of lust, but I’d like to think his love flew above turbulent skies.
I thought Dr. Urbino as a rock.
He must have thought of his fidelity as a disease. His father died fighting cholera, and Urbino would not let his affliction of faithfulness **** him. He thought himself ill, and the mantra of his practice taught him one thing only: cure.
In a slum of San Juan de la Cienaga, pants around his ankles, holding a mulatto girl’s legs around his waist, he crumbled like stale bread as he plunged himself into infidelity.
This man of granite broke and fragmented, his sin etched a crooked cobweb of fractures into his back, I wonder if the beads of sweat stung his spine, or dulled the pain.
But maybe I should put my faith in dust devils.
Humans may be able to shatter the hardest stone, but no one commands the sky, for it straddles North and South, East and West, Fort Worth and Minneapolis.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
~
The Giraffe Cries
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour
Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar
Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations
The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises
It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts
Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths
The train departs…the giraffe cries
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
Dancing on a thread of silk - taut of pain,
balanced deep within the fear…
Swaying to the side in calculated energy,
breathing as the sweat begins to pour
Toeing the line with blinders on
only to face the evil waiting - miles above my last breath
Shambles become my life’s dreams,
as fifty or so exit the compact car below- all doors ajar
Pointing skyward with gloved fingers and flowered bonnets
they gasp - splashing red paint of severed smiles
and floating eyebrows, merely decorations placed by hand
and contractual obligations
The rings add up to three - yet left alone I find is me,
teetering of lost imagination and breath taking nuances,
blanketing the sawdust creations
of worries portrayed in a gallery of netted promises
It is calling now for my end - free falling with wings to spare,
a calliope whistles its crescendo beneath a tent
pitched and heaved in frustration,
riding the rail lines of someone else’s thoughts
Not worth the price of admission - I wave
as I exit this cotton candy dream world in search of the nightmares slowly unfolding
along platform bridges of age
and destined footpaths
The train departs…the giraffe cries
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
Booming Rhetorics (Spoken Word- Freestyle-Dramatics)
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
==Booming Rhetorics ==
by
Checkered Darks
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
(Copy the link below to your browser)
https://soundcloud.com/user-367453778/boomingrhetorics
Human nature itself is a smash of contractual responsibility. A splash of rights afloat as we sink in our psychological rooted moral panics. All I see is a cascading titanic of ventures our mislaid adventures one after another. The criss cross of chains, we bonded in tax measures, reserve treasures...... It's not my leisure I beg you don't make your pleasure.
I sink in pressure, resolving Karl Mark ideology of conflicted power. Is it our born nature or nurture to live in a world of social polarisation. A pole to pole, a tug of war. Each owning and holding a rope.Is it our task to cage in boxes, fencing notions of inequalities within our society. Is it our right this notion Bourgeoisie and Proletariat.
Help me out as as I wade in the swampy lowland. Treading through and through, head afloat, the submerging walk me to the shores..... Help me find my way through this dark tunnel. Help me see the light, let the sun ray penetrate my blight.
In our dichotomy of democracy we have made it right. A rolling ball of ........
1. Stock them high sell them cheap is the order of the day.
2. Social warehousing of merging demand and supply chain.
3. A disintegration of socialist entrepreneurship.
4. Re-distribution of Export Production Zones in marginalised countries.
5. A surge of capitalism on this patch we call the universe.
6.Conortions of monopoly colluding sustainability.
I pass this ball to you. As the industrial revolution fades and debates of "STEEL" revolves.
My Speech is a mere consideration, our contradiction. The contractual complications that we have grounded and granted ourselves as humanity. My voice is an exchange, my gift, a cloud of thoughts, an arousing hope our haunting costs.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 6:19 AM UTC
One of these days, the glimmer in your eye that knocks me out will actually break me,
And then my words and reservoir of tears will shatter into shards of truth
That stick into and stain your hands when you apologetically try to sweep them up.
It’s not a ******* secret that I live for the hours that I can pretend that maybe,
One of these nights, I’ll be with you in more than just my mind and yours
As you grip the banister to ascend to silken sheets and wine-fed dreams.
I bite my tongue so words don’t leak, and lick my lips so as to keep them here,
Rather than the curving place behind your ear… the stalwart jaw… the capable lips that draw me near…
The things I’d do were waters clear…
The answer’s written in an inky, contractual ultimatum that squashes the fruit of imagination.
And yet, a fierce, poisonous force rises from the depths of a desirous ***** within,
And whispers to me that with contracts, there are ways to blot, smear, and tear. It scares me.
I lock it in a closet of infectious notions that I’ll slowly dematerialize with clean blood,
But rivers of the stuff won’t run clear when they’re magnetized so close to the sin
That doesn’t feel like sin, and that beckons as a beacon of bright and beautiful things.
It’s a difficult conclusion to arrive at: I must be the bad guy.
I am the mind’s mistress, the secret-almost-lover, the temptation, the promise, the snake…
Yet also the forgotten, the disappointed, the frustrated, the one who MUST keep control, the Saint.
We both know that I’ll keep floating back; my curiosity, passion, fascination, and need to learn and share
Will always countervail the weight of my exasperation and guilt-laden vexation,
Until one of these days when the glimmer in your eye that knocks me out actually breaks me.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 7:10 AM UTC
They constantly on the television delivering the news for today.
Love to grilled, quiz others but serious they contractual to say not a thing.
They the reporters.
But pay attention and notice.
Once they retired or writing a book.
Now they got an opinion about everything they have seen or support.
Then the reportic robots act like their minds working.
Go figure what a signed contract can do.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
reconnected images
toes in rich soil
toiling under the yoke
spatially
fleeting fancy of freedom
fades
pages turn
returning me to the ground
I roamed as a child –
forgotten foothills
beacon
as property brokering
binds me to the earth
monetarily
owning my homeland
by the acreage –
white privilege escapist
seeking grid-less domain
sustainability with a suntan
in the cool Oregon rain
draining the infrastructure
through government backed loans
forever indebted
as the backs of my fellow countrymen
are buying my dream in America –
wrecked inspectors trek Tibet
for the almighty dolla dolla bill ya’ll
signing off on trash
commission driven misgivings
serving up dry rot and mold spots
on a flooded lot
I shield myself against the tide of ********
seeking information
in the age
namesake
heartbroken realtors
dot the horizon
holding contractual obligation
waving it frantically
begging –
seeking perfection
sneaking suspect-tion
any direction
needing contraception
fleeting misconception
leading to direct loans
hearing the same groans
as she is reading the next home
listing……..
throwing fists into the air
I swear
if I didn’t care so much
to handle the deed
I would rent
for
life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Despite the right to spite the far away
Of only what I know is nothing as a word
Only what I know is everything as a meaning
******** **** in this early morn
******** love of that metal music
ENOUGH OF THIS (will make you crazy)
Heterosinea contractual echinacea of aviary actual sack attack
ATTACKING SACK INSIDE A RACK O' FLACK
FLACK BOMbardment of horse willed ensnarement
Wiley wicker writhing in illness
Loose found youtube through fool rude nudes
Useful contraptions trap attraction for creative adoration and many more "things"
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
This dissertation, written by a double-jointed stunt-double
A sentient being
It must take one to know one
Because he found me immediately
We counted the tally marks
Crushed cornflakes on a Kashmir carpet
We met a paraplegic paralegal
Whose views we're, for lack of a better word "perpendicular"
We we're entranced by him
He spoke of integrity and the dangers of toxic relationships
And how the service of justice is only so-so
He was enmeshed by contractual obligations and deadlines
He left us with two last pieces of advice
"Talk to yourself often, for you'll surely know best for yourself"
"Forgive yourself, for forgiveness proves strength and admitting your wrongs shows humility"
The stunt-double wrote his paper on this
And I wrote this poem
This occurrence so rarefied yet malleable
-Tommy Johnson
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
In certain cases and cirmcustances , we question various reports.
Some realistic and some simple fiction.
But is all things based on race?
Probably not?
But on the perception of the public.
So let's dive into various events reported lately.
Why?
Why?
Do white females have no guts to report events twenty years ago?
But suddenly now?
We have law enforcers and lawyers in a society ready to go.
With the Supreme Court nominee allegation, we seeing tricks of tricks playing out.
Whether you like him or not, this guilt attack could have been reported.
What stopped her?
Many playing some of it down cause thee allegations comes now when he about to be elevated higher in the court system?
And let's be real a lot of stupidity goes on in our teen years that we ALL might regrets.
What do experts say?
We not wise to make an adult decision in our youth.
Which many of us know not exactly true.
Even with Cosby attacks many still think if the lady took a secret payment.
She played a guilt in him if true doing more against the others.
Plus, by law, she owes the money back.
It's a broken contractual agreement.
And many men still doubt some accusation.
Is with the famous accuser?
Why?
Didn't take go to news a long time ago?
In some these cases, they were mixed, racial accusers?
If took a poll mainly always one sided based in race polling?
Many would high light white females love to play along and stay the silent partner in cases.
And this isn't always about they were fearful.
But their partial guilt will be exposed.
All these high-level ****** harassment cases level against news executive points out various themes.
They still worked for the company and around him.
For what?
They had a family to take care of in life.
Sounds good but many of us know we not going stay in a hostile environment too long.
What's going to get better?
Some, hate to admit it.
Rose through the ranks to be high-level anchors.
At most companies, many employees know the "slept her way to the top" female.
And then the case "huntress" always on the scene Gloria Allred the lawyer present in most cases.
What high profile lawyer?
Do anything for free?
Of all races, it seems white females have this selected memory that surfaces back just at the right time.
But no one can make you be quiet.
Although a few friends and family try with you gonna embarrassed the family.
But if it gives you a peace of mind.
Follow your heart and go after your accusers.
True friends and family stay at your best supporters.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
A living, fire-breathing dragon is
Equivalent to your personality
Treading across your path is
A crucial threat to life expectancy
Unmercifully you scorch any creature
That catches your eye
Staining your victims with emotions
Of deep guilt and regret
How can you hold back the tears
From the anguish you conceived?
It must be hard to swallow ‘cause
It burns the passage of your throat
At the same temperature of heat you
Bestowed upon those innocent people
Stings doesn't it? Well now you know
How excruciating it was for me
My heart has summoned me
Here to inform you
Of a contractual notice confirming your
Assassination and cremation
Karma was bound to
Bite you back sooner or later
So take this pen and sign
Your death certificate with pride
Be as brave as you were when
You ruined the beauty of billions
Be as confident as you were when
You drowned the human race
In a sea of
Your chaotic arrogance
Enjoy your cremation I hope
You scream and suffer
In streaming tears of
Well deserved agony
By Glenn McCrary
© 2011 Glenn McCrary
(All rights reserved)
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 10:46 AM UTC
The temptress zigzags into the barracks
And makes off with the subservient uniform wearing rifleman's milk money
To buy a swimsuit for her ephemeral summer body
That will sag to the floor by the first few days of autumn
She hacks the submarine's sonar system
And lets the current take her to a cedar river bend
Where she sniffles while polishing her handgun
Reserved for all those who lag behind in the arid region
To release them from their contractual servitude
Causing a ripple effect
Of inconclusive prospects
Etcetera , etcetera
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 9:03 PM UTC
A kiss
A cuddle
such simple acts to give
Yet
Each one is a contract
and here's what they entail
the kiss is an obligation
It's a choice you choose to take
The person offers themselves up
By leaning 90% of the way
You're then given the choice;
to oblige and accept their kiss
or give them that 10% of dignity to walk away and add this as an experience near missed
the cuddle however
also known as a hug
is a place in which
no words are said
and no feelings are emote'd
it's a silent contract stating
this is for here and now.
it's not something that lingers
Or takes your breath away.
well it shouldn't.
That is if you're
doing it right anyway
But a cuddle can be powerful
when nothing else is uttered
it's a way to get out all your angst
and clean your emotional gutters
then once you have relinquished your arms from around the other one
That's it the contracts over,
well until the next one.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 12:02 PM UTC
PROLOGUE –
Silliness becomes a later suffering, if only tinkered by potion –
PART I –
A contractual moment whilst halos best remain hung on the hat rack since devils taste so much better. Bitter but belated, ritual yet related, so to in avoidance, fleeing anything that’d mimic life, “ideal;” perfect being a, “nine-five,” during which, “monkeyed with,” comes to a peak and a valley’s once more, a lack of control. A tailspin wherein one truth can become just a shy more intangible mere seconds later – We can see it, we can smell it and we can almost touch it – so allows the specter, the hand holding drink, and later, permitted, for our nakedness to play once more.
PART II –
Four more down and a few gin-fueled gestures later, we stumble upon but one edible truth, an apple and, “sin,” repeated thousand-fold – so succumbs you and a parallel I atop our empty and, “precious,” wants carnal. We masticate and learn to destroy the TV – naked, begrudged and bent over the boxes we worship. We annihilate the machines. We profane the dependencies; placation and participation wrought this artificial coercion, once a friend and now an object – a disdain, a thievery, a prison, vicarious and to be avoided by all costs.
PART III –
Human interaction and fluidic free choice soon become the new, “in,” the primal addiction amongst the bottles of tequila, ***** and plain-old beer. Our grinning, in the flesh and not in pixel, must and will rise like the places we’ve so very poisoned. Here and now, we care. We have to care, because if we don’t, it’s all for nothing. So we top the night twisted, simply breathing, where the smog isn’t seen, but it’s there. We top the night tethered, where the rain doesn’t burn, it believes. And we top the night innocent, and among stars, both in the sky and entangled the heart beating my right,
EPILOGUE –
For the time being, just being, where all seemed right, a little twisted, but wiser nonetheless.
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 12:14 AM UTC
I can see the world breathing/
I could taste its voice/
I could hear it's vision/
I could feel its voids/
It's souls wheeling/
A cacophony of noise/
its emotional temperament discernings of cause/
It's pause ...
the paw prints of remorse/
No back tracking off/
Of contractual clause/
Bombastic elegance/
Its hurt its negligence/
The happening evident/
Hell earths been telling us/
It cries over deserts
Left stranded flooded meadows/
metals for war valor/
Tenured long as a/
What ever doesn't matter/
Preceding Creation Adam/
Before eves mislead
By the snake
Before the egg e.g. I.e./
It Seems a bit peeved/
We've deceived, dissected/
with out second guessing/
satirical in our measures/ Exponentially aggressive/
therefore when it shakes/
I awake/
like a break/
In the force/
Disturbance
lack of faith
intuition
a link missing
gut feeling somethings off/
from the source all resource/
allows us resourceful
cold where it's hot
clouds where it's not/
depleted eradicated non aggregated subplot/
poisonous crops
circles from the top/
aerial perplexed/
hurricane vortex/
Tornadoes stream jet
Winds increasing/
warmness global warning the atmosphere half gone and/
the hemisphere ozone
Soon gone/
The stratosphere space
Full of space
earth race
done/
finish disintegrated diminish exceeded thine limits/
I wonder who won?
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
I have been pushed and have taken the plunge
I have tripped in the wandering woods
I have hunted and preyed in the night...
Would you believe me if I said
I Loved it all even the fight?
through blood and shed
no warmth over head
fake food for hollow days
streams from your eyes
twinkle me blue star gaze
Worn soles and old friends
Kitchen fires blurred vision
packed bags long nights
Instruments of each others
whipped delusions and delights
Did we choose to or were we chosen?
Will we be forever broken?
I've been pushed and taken the plunge
I've been trapped in the wandering woods.
I have hunted prey in the night...
Would you believe me if I said
I Loved it all despite...?
Jump Frogger on board between wafer thin pulses
A glowing screen a familiar name, impulses
either syntax err or Zapp Rodger pair
silicone crystal we chat via air
Space travel on hope floats to unravel
conversation R We compackable
these moments like death tolls
add up 2, Are you faithful!?
Heart (pause) Jaw (falls)
Do you mean belief in the Unseen?
Could we ever take it back?
Does Love have boundaries?
I know my emotions are supernatural
like Oceans the fish within can not feel it all
These notions Man I Fessed into the actual
better question; Is my mission honest and factual?
My answer is Yes!
Love is the longest promise you could ever break.
emotionally contractual!
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
More serious things to take to heed
Let's drink and **** and make them bleed.
Trash the house smash all the dishes let the garden go to seed
Spurn those neighbours puerile wishes
Burn the sequestrations we don't read.
To always get the last word like some tight self righteous *******
Ever forwards never backwards
Beat at the heels and hooves of fools and ********
Like it matters, like it really ******* matters.
All aboard for this adventure for this veritable adventure
With the sick the sad mad sufferer's of dementia
Although but barely over forty odd,
In another dimension they could be god they could be god
Or an invention of the media.
All Innocence lost
Think of the cost
Think of the exorbitant financial cost
For all those who could do good
Inside they brood
Inside my radioactive neighbourhood.
Now feel remorse.
Feel remorse for all the insects
All the dead insects
killed by my hand killed by my hand
Still inconsolable indiscernible,
trans-dimensionally faded
Sick and jaded
And all the ******** that I really really can't stand.
Void of compassion
Void of passion
Tip back handing
Hip with branding
And a simple contractual understanding.
Now come back into the fold
Get on the path or face old
Neptune's wrath
Remember must
Be kind to mammy
Or face insurmountable tsunami
With a tea spoon and damp dish cloth
Use protection
Buy the election
Rich mans disease
Poor mans affliction
Dry your tear ducts
Sick to the guts
And as ever
We have again eaten very strange meat products
Unpronounceable indigestible
Full with bile and virile hate
The noun has won the noun has won.
But hate is such a strong word
To use against the truly truly absurd.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 1:10 PM UTC
My arms are infinite extensions of the universe within my breath. My eyes smudged telescopic kaleidoscopes tinted with the shade of reality. My lungs are pretending to move with the harmony of Om and the balance of stars. Stars. Stars that often imagine themselves as warriors and bears, clocking in infinite time for the job of "Inspiration", contractual every few million years. And then they rotate, revolve, imitate and dissipate into new configurations of dead lights. And over a backdrop of pitch black voids of offices after hours, stars are the friendly, warm glowing windows at the next block, in heavy rains. Stars will remain though our own species retains our blood-lust for fellow brothers and sisters and Gaia. Stars that can only be seen through infinite extensions of vision, and only reached by the arms that strive to thrive in kaleidoscope waters viewed from smudged telescopes.
Jan 25, 2016
Jan 25, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
blunt deadly weapons of mass destruction
electrify, fracture, and
jeopardize **** Sapiens
species (and entire biosphere)
continuity rent asunder
doomsday declared (nuclear winter
gallows humor spelt
with eternal snow day)
dystopian authors outflanked
nuclear fallout wreaks worst
rocky horror picture
effected upon mankind
global (worldwide)
big screen radioactive
wee ***** weber webbing
materiel severely seared
sepsis poisons deoxyribo
nucleic acid future generations
organic fiber cursed
simultaneous single simulcast
broadcast airs live after Royal Wedding
audience participation demanded
bumping ugly fleshless
formed fruitless fatal fumes
anomalies all – blinded
******** begotten bemoan
brethren brood
brutal burnt offerings
crackling, snapping,
and popping surreal muck
shapeless liquified populace
sloshing helter skelter
quests slither towards
aimless destination
bone a fied skeleton crews cruise
crying cretins creep cavalierly
crepuscular cratered city
cruel mushroom clouds
cloaked croaking cellophane charred
cancerous clumps career,
clomp continuously
chaos charts choking climate
cold comfort commanded collusion
commander in chief concurred
crumpled coveted constitution credo
crass conceit communicated
cooly came clean concerning
consensual ****** cavort
crazy cream craving characterized
condoned combined crunching
crotch crab free **** -
****** free crux
contractual commingling
cashiered coverup
chic chica chick
cigerette chewing
clutched cocked club
choked chicken concluded
das capitol business
before he returned
to regularly broadcast program
the sea son finale
last chapter of human race
no winners, nor survivors
bleak contaminated Earth gasping
heaving jackknifed lost
nonpareil planet reduced to vapor!
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC