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"coolly" poems
Eternal consciousness in the Void (makes trial & jail seem almost friendly) a Kiss in the Storm (Madman at the wheel gun at the neck space populous & arching coolly) A barn a cabin attic Your own face stationary in the mirrored window fear of restroom’s Tragic cold neon I’m freezing animals dead white wings of rabbits grey velvet deer The Canyon The car a craft in wretched SPACE Sudden movements & your past to warm you in Spiritless Night The Lonely HWY Cold hiker Afraid of Wolves & his own Shadow ~~~ The Wolf, who lives under the rock has invited me to drink of his cool Water. Not to splash or bathe But leave the sun & know the dead desert night & the cold men who play there. ~~~ a ha Come on, now luring the Traveller Mighty Voyager Curious, into its dark womb The graves grinning Indians of night The eyes of night Westward luring into the brothel, into the blood bath into the Dream The dark Dream of conquest & Voyage into night, Westward into Night
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33.4k
The Fear
*Being unemployed is like…. Being stuck in a hole in the ground with a broken leg and no cell phone, while surrounded all on sides by people who ignore your very existence, or treat you as if you are less than…. well…anything. Their silhouettes casting quickly passing shadows on the concrete around you. No one offering you a hand. Each time you reach out for help you are rejected coolly and professionally. No one wants a failure, but they also don’t want the responsibility of helping to create a success. The ones who do reach out for you, don’t really care about your success or well-being. They see a quick buck, easy to replace or move past, should you realize you are worth more than their verbal abuse and manipulation. No one wants a self-valuing person either. They don’t even want a human, with thoughts emotions and memories. All hiring businesses want, is a robot to do their every bidding with no complaints, no questions asked, even if that person’s health or sanity is on the line. Or even their life. In a world created by ourselves, we are unimportant.*
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 12:07 AM UTC
Unemployed
invisible isotopes gently rain down onto the chins of infants we whisk them away with soft kisses tiny irradiated dust flakes float onto boutonniereless lapels we brush them off with fresh carnations Oak leaves blown from denuding limbs by soft puffs of radioactive plumes are shaken from our door mats green grass sprinkled with Strontium 90 is mowed and mixed into our compost piles the pristine waters of March are laced with uranium tainted iodine it coolly slakes our piqued thirst the rouge rose gilded with a golden plush of soft plutonium is plucked to adorn late evening dinner tables and exchanged by sweethearts as amorous gestures of resignation between condemned lovers Oakland 3/28/11 jbm
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Nov 5, 2011
Nov 5, 2011 at 9:27 PM UTC
A Gilded Rose
hospice is the admission they bring morphine the good stuff it’s six months or less a one way flight of hosts and guests now numb from the blast there’s no turning back it’s inside out and your hardwiring is resiliently engaged to move you forward into this final encounter day after day drinking red tea with spoons and cups of Bonanno and Kubler-Ross their ghosts slurp with you - in your prepped room your James Dean role now flickers with light on the ceiling and you dream a third stage bargain that your son had been hit instead of you with this wicked sickness then coolly counseled by your wife that it was no dream just your mind regulating - processing you slump there dying there in front of a familiar wall where you once taped painted olives green and sipped scotch with your books at night.
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May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 12:34 PM UTC
Hospice
414 ’Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch, That nearer, every Day, Kept narrowing its boiling Wheel Until the Agony Toyed coolly with the final inch Of your delirious Hem— And you dropt, lost, When something broke— And let you from a Dream— As if a Goblin with a Gauge— Kept measuring the Hours— Until you felt your Second Weigh, helpless, in his Paws— And not a Sinew—stirred—could help, And sense was setting numb— When God—remembered—and the Fiend Let go, then, Overcome— As if your Sentence stood—pronounced— And you were frozen led From Dungeon’s luxury of Doubt To Gibbets, and the Dead— And when the Film had stitched your eyes A Creature gasped “Reprieve”! Which Anguish was the utterest—then— To perish, or to live?
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Twas like a Maelstrom, with a notch
Oh, why doth a caged bird sing? Such blissful tunes contrast somber winter's gray, a myriad of wonder and saccharine kisses so sweet to hear, so poignant a feel Oh, tell me why, why doth the caged bird sing when e'er there naught be good to sing of? "You are safe here," coos cruel crow keeper coolly "from the owl and the hawk and their mal' ways." his tones are sharp as swords so ill and keen as bitter thorns. Oh why doth the caged bird sing? "Why, oh why doth ye caged bird sing?" calls the mockingbird sweetly, returning the caged bird's song "out of lonesome, sir" sighs the caged bird and so he ascends on swift, heaven-fit wings and releases the caged bird, and the two sing as one now as two free birds shall sing a-merry
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Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 12:51 AM UTC
Why Doth the Caged Bird Sing?
As low as nicknames go, I chose the worst for you,I chose this as your position, your time, your place to me, even if you're my third one, you're all I can see. You're my third one, the third person to make me swoon, You're my third one, Though the first to make me feel torturingly alive, You're my third one, and you know what they say, Third time's a charm. I still feel guilty calling you Third When you're my first right now,right here, Open or close, My eyes, They see your cheery white teeth in your amazing smile, My eyes, They stare at your confident lazy eyes coolly seeing,hiding your emotions in it's golden brown depths, My eyes, They appreciate your Greek-like,straight nose, long with strength and sharp with confidence, My eyes, They see your mouse-like ears, keen to casually hear conversations you may not seem to care. ; My eyes, They see your fine build, veins running downs places,up and over your tiny muscles. My eyes,my heart, they don't see your personality, they only see the cool outside shell you've built around it. Yes,occasionally, you let go of that cool aura, you goof off,you laugh,you act silly with your friends. And I'll stand there, not even ashamed to stare your perfection a glare like your sun rays bear. You like your sports, your music, your Dota 2. I want to know everything about you. That's the sad part,isn't it? For me at least,I don't know about you. I DON'T KNOW (ANYTHING)ABOUT YOU YET I'M CRAAAAAZY For you. Get a hold of yourself,self. The audience aren't here for screaming. They want sadness ,tragedy,romanticism. But damn,I can only give you guys 2. There's no romance but in my head,my dreams, torturing me with false hope and implanted feelings No sadness but in my heart, I can't have him, I know, I'm slowly tearing apart. We don't talk,we don't speak, we look,we glance,we sometimes take a dare and stare, but that's the only tweak. There's no tragedy but in the non-romantic relationship between his friend and me, I was called a stalker, my best friend rudely rejected for small favors, that's a tragic crushing history. There were chances I could've taken, if you,my Third One still sat on the bus, when your sister wouldn't be between us, but day after day It slowly became a bust. More sadness? Well,summer's here. I can't see you no more, you didn't show the last week of school or the few days before. I admit,I'm stalking you. But I need you to stop stalking my mind,taking over my thoughts,my vision, making me blind. Maybe I'll forget about you the next 2 months. It'll be hard but I'll try.
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Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
Third One
As low as nicknames go, I chose the worst for you,I chose this as your position, your time, your place to me, even if you're my third one, you're all I can see. You're my third one, the third person to make me swoon, You're my third one, Though the first to make me feel torturingly alive, You're my third one, and you know what they say, Third time's a charm. I still feel guilty calling you Third When you're my first right now,right here, Open or close, My eyes, They see your cheery white teeth in your amazing smile, My eyes, They stare at your confident lazy eyes coolly seeing,hiding your emotions in it's golden brown depths, My eyes, They appreciate your Greek-like,straight nose, long with strength and sharp with confidence, My eyes, They see your mouse-like ears, keen to casually hear conversations you may not seem to care. ; My eyes, They see your fine build, veins running downs places,up and over your tiny muscles. My eyes,my heart, they don't see your personality, they only see the cool outside shell you've built around it. Yes,occasionally, you let go of that cool aura, you goof off,you laugh,you act silly with your friends. And I'll stand there, not even ashamed to stare your perfection a glare like your sun rays bear. You like your sports, your music, your Dota 2. I want to know everything about you. That's the sad part,isn't it? For me at least,I don't know about you. I DON'T KNOW (ANYTHING)ABOUT YOU YET I'M CRAAAAAZY For you. Get a hold of yourself,self. The audience aren't here for screaming. They want sadness ,tragedy,romanticism. But damn,I can only give you guys 2. There's no romance but in my head,my dreams, torturing me with false hope and implanted feelings No sadness but in my heart, I can't have him, I know, I'm slowly tearing apart. We don't talk,we don't speak, we look,we glance,we sometimes take a dare and stare, but that's the only tweak. There's no tragedy but in the non-romantic relationship between his friend and me, I was called a stalker, my best friend rudely rejected for small favors, that's a tragic crushing history. There were chances I could've taken, if you,my Third One still sat on the bus, when your sister wouldn't be between us, but day after day It slowly became a bust. More sadness? Well,summer's here. I can't see you no more, you didn't show the last week of school or the few days before. I admit,I'm stalking you. But I need you to stop stalking my mind,taking over my thoughts,my vision, making me blind. Maybe I'll forget about you the next 2 months. It'll be hard but I'll try.
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86
High above the Canyon’s edge, Far above the ancient clay, The helicopter hovers there Like a dragonfly at play. With my jet pack on my back I coolly, calmly step away. Gain separation from the blades, Freefall starts my epic day. On stubby wings the jet packs fire I’m Daedalus in the morning light. I soar across the canyon’s rim. Laughing like some hell born sprite One hundred eighty miles an hour, The wind whips cold despite the sun I glide toward my landing zone The jet packs sputter and are done. My parachute has been deployed My guide ropes turn me for my drop. My wings are just a dead weight now I touch down one the Mesa top. At Kitty Hawk that fateful day. This must be what the brothers felt Kindred souls who sought to fly By using wings that wouldn’t melt..
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Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
Eight Minutes
just another face in the crowd just another classmate we spoke occasionally, commenting on each other's work Then it happened. A random visit to my slumbering thoughts made cloudy confusion blow away with the dark storm I awoke with a smile on my face hope wrapped around me with a misty twinge of impatience for Tuesday rolling through i'm not ready i can't be ready it's too soon... isn't it? it doesn't matter, he's not interested anyways i don't want a rebound i can't get hurt again silence swept in behind you calmly, coolly, quietly setting things down beside me playful jibes, attentive conversations, shy glances, soft smiles, ending with long walks in the darkening sky bright with city lights heart pounding in my breast, breath slipping past my lips in bursts, butterflies fluttering in my stomach things I had not felt for a long time rose to the front of my mind blooming in my heart stirring with every class spent together The fairytale I longed for may not exist, but you may be the man to help me find something better
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Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 3:08 AM UTC
Crush
You made me feel lonely What you did was very ugly I loved you and you cheated on me In fact, you BETRAYED me Because of you, did I go into depression Very very wrong, were your actions Thanks to them, greatly did I suffer For me, not even one bit did you care! You made me feel lonely I thought you were lovely How cruelly did you prove me wrong My suffering was quite long You drove a wedge into my heart And tore it apart!! You made me feel lonely And treated me very badly Thanks to you, did my self-belief shatter Because, you struck at my very core Sending shockwaves all over my soul And effectively trapping me in a prison cell!! You made me feel lonely While you played a game coolly Trying to destroy my relationships With my family and my best friend And trapping me in a toxic relationship Which seemed as if it would never end!! You made me feel lonely But I came back strongly Thanks to my sister and my best friend To your twisted games, did they put an end You tried to break me But my goodness set me free While you will eternally feel guilty For your treachery and infidelity Yes, you made me feel lonely indeed However, from the trauma have I recovered And learnt a lesson for life Goodbye forever, my "poor little" ex-wife!!
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Sep 14, 2024
Sep 14, 2024 at 1:07 PM UTC
You Made Me Feel Lonely
I am In a word transfixed to a moment the epitome of evolution the pinnacle of creation I laugh triumphantly As my knife pierces the medium rare steak So civilized I am that rare breeze that has traveled the distance of so many sorrows a physical force borne of the contradiction between warmth and the abyss I am very respected I adjust the tie the trapezoidal patterns hide so coolly the noose around my neck a lynching of estimation in a two part drama I am leaning against the wall the flesh pressed against the graffiti my being transposed against someone else's thoughts its all a happenstance an accidental meeting without a gaze but for that commonality we have nothing in common I am a synapse I pass on the sensations of pain and pleasure without discrimination my free will in all its glory succumbs to a chemical reaction yet I must be more or maybe just maybe the knife I hold can pierce more than flesh I am floating on a stationary platform I choose my destiny I rearrange the order of confusion a train screeches to a halt a sea of ties and heels self assured smiles of the precise menu may I have the check please I am a random canopy of emotion I flutter in the breeze the clearest expression of being of breathing of wanting of feeling a rare glimpse a subtle smile a delicate touch of flesh against flesh its all too fleeting transparency and no more
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Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 8:27 AM UTC
Transparency
A guy walks into a bar In a posh high rise hotel. He doesn't look the part, He is not a swell. He's in an off-rack suit It's not tailored silk. Orders up a drink, A tall.glass of milk. He's tall, dark and handsome, But his tie is just absurd! He's got heavy glasses, And looks just like a nerd! **Along the bar he heard a snort, And a drunkard gave a sneer, "Well, hey there kid, The school's next door, You're not allowed in here!" He laughed aloud at his own joke, And began to walk and sway, A gap appeared as nervous folk All slowly back away... The drunkard called out to the nerd, "What's wrong, kid, beer too fizzy? Or is the truth just what I heard, You're a no-good, yellow ***** The handsome man was cool, He didn't break his stride. He pushed his glasses up his nose And took the drunk aside. The enebriated idiot Looked him up and down, But followed him to the window Said, "Watchoo wan' here clown? The dark man smiled coolly. Said, "I'd like to make a wager. Just a couple thousand bucks. You know. Nothing major. I'll bet you, my drunken friend, I can jump out - but then After I'm out this window, I'll come back in again!! **The drunkard looked him up and down, And grinned an evil grin, "If you wanna JUMP,  go right ahead, This bet, I'm gonna WIN! The handsome man just Gave a wink, And jumped out on the ledge. He took one look o'r the brink, And leapt over the edge! The drunkard gasped In total shock! "My god, he must have died!!" When in a flash there came a knock The man climbed back inside! The handsome man Straightend his tie "It's time to pay your dues! Unless, of course, you'd like to try, Or are you scared you'll lose...** "Scared!?!!" The drunk was livid! "Well! I'm no chicken, friend! I accept! " And so he *lept!!! And promptly met his end.....* The tall, dark handsome person Went back to his drink. He finished his milk quietly, And tipped the keep a wink. The barkeep, looking sour, Said, "Well. More cleanup work. Superman, I like you, But sometimes you're a **** (C) Tryst (C) SoulSurvivor
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Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
A Guy Walks into a Bar (collaboration with Tryst)
A guy walks into a bar In a posh high rise hotel. He doesn't look the part, He is not a swell. He's in an off-rack suit It's not tailored silk. Orders up a drink, A tall.glass of milk. He's tall, dark and handsome, But his tie is just absurd! He's got heavy glasses, And looks just like a nerd! **Along the bar he heard a snort, And a drunkard gave a sneer, "Well, hey there kid, The school's next door, You're not allowed in here!" He laughed aloud at his own joke, And began to walk and sway, A gap appeared as nervous folk All slowly back away... The drunkard called out to the nerd, "What's wrong, kid, beer too fizzy? Or is the truth just what I heard, You're a no-good, yellow ***** The handsome man was cool, He didn't break his stride. He pushed his glasses up his nose And took the drunk aside. The enebriated idiot Looked him up and down, But followed him to the window Said, "Watchoo wan' here clown? The dark man smiled coolly. Said, "I'd like to make a wager. Just a couple thousand bucks. You know. Nothing major. I'll bet you, my drunken friend, I can jump out - but then After I'm out this window, I'll come back in again!! **The drunkard looked him up and down, And grinned an evil grin, "If you wanna JUMP,  go right ahead, This bet, I'm gonna WIN! The handsome man just Gave a wink, And jumped out on the ledge. He took one look o'r the brink, And leapt over the edge! The drunkard gasped In total shock! "My god, he must have died!!" When in a flash there came a knock The man climbed back inside! The handsome man Straightend his tie "It's time to pay your dues! Unless, of course, you'd like to try, Or are you scared you'll lose...** "Scared!?!!" The drunk was livid! "Well! I'm no chicken, friend! I accept! " And so he *lept!!! And promptly met his end.....* The tall, dark handsome person Went back to his drink. He finished his milk quietly, And tipped the keep a wink. The barkeep, looking sour, Said, "Well. More cleanup work. Superman, I like you, But sometimes you're a **** (C) Tryst (C) SoulSurvivor
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75
She contemplated death as coolly as the opening of a lotus. Its light spread on her mad-locked smile drained of his mournful red, like unfinished smears of butter on toast.
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Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 6:17 AM UTC
Winter, 1962
Our hands clenched together In a spontaneous dash, We fly down the grand staircases and swirling halls Of the Atlantis at 3 a.m. I, Skidding to a halt in triumph, Push toward the wall of sleek windows Containing the exotic creatures Swimming swiftly and sweetly Through the dark water of the night. And you, my dear, Drunk with the ancient incense Of island air and twilight, Nourish my curiosity with your voice. “Go ahead.” We approach the world of blue And lift our faces to the glass, Pressing coolly against the fins Sprinkled with deep, dark gold. Through the water I see The scales twinkling in your eyes, And in secret I see them return a gaze Through the reflection of the window Softly sprinkled with life.
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Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 9:38 PM UTC
Reflections upon the Window of an Aquarium
Melting pots are for racists. The USA is a salad bowl. The student lounge features the veggies at their ripest, collecting oxygen amongst themselves, for the corn cannot exist with the broccoli, and so on and so forth. Don't even mention fruits to the potatoes. And the tomatoes, they're just weird, man, don't even know what they are. We are all at our most savory and nutritious, our youthful wisdom emanating through our concrete set of hues. The chili peppers emanate a color as red as the blood of their ancestral martyrdom, no other color, just red. Same for the cucumbers with hearts so coolly refrigerated, taking forest green, taking pastel green with just a few drops of ivory-scented beige tucked neatly behind walls of bamboo-level peels. The voices of the onions thud onto the floor as if being catapulted from cumulonimbus peaks, causing the Iceberg lettuce to almost drown in its own dressing. Lady Liberty, a series of produce section fragments sitting much too sternly with no regard for sprawling. In the same bowl, though!
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Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
Salad Bar
.            A thatched and wicker basket-nest            Cradles a cluster bright and new            And delicate and coolly blue, With speckled royal freckles blessed.            The cherry blossoms pink the trees.            A snowy fall of tiny white            And quickly flipping petals light Into an errant summer breeze.            Diffusely, prodigally blows            A heavy opiate-like scent,—            The lilac's prized accomplishment,— The greenest envy of the rose.            And everywhere I idly walk            I see, in all the lightened notes            And whited tones and frosted coats, The springtide paints that mix with chalk. ^ ^
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Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
Impression in Pastels
You have damaged me very badly Ensuring that I hate you madly You have caused me a lot of emotional trauma By being a queen of sheer drama You pretended to love me as a friend Instead, did you trap me in a toxic bond! You have damaged me very badly Because, you were only after my money You are much worse than an enemy Because, never did you truly want me to be happy You have caused my self-esteem to crash For that, you, should God punish!! You have damaged me very badly And may be thinking coolly That you are now going to have a great life But I warn you, you are going to be in strife You will get divorced soon And find yourself alone Ignored by almost everyone Finally, will you know then What it means, to be betrayed By someone you dearly trusted Well, now I totally hate you But I will eventually forgive you Only because of my love for Jesus And then I will finally find my inner peace But you will never find yours Goodbye and good riddance!!
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Apr 5, 2025
Apr 5, 2025 at 11:38 AM UTC
You Have Damaged Me Very Badly
A contrite flash of blue Coolly coquettish whispers Are a far cry from the temper Tantrums of yesterday's Heated tropical tears: Torrential downpours amidst Sultry sobs and gusts Today's clear skies contrasted With Irene's angry outburst
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Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Contrite, Today
the world is adorned with a million windows the bleakest night has a thousand eyes daylight shines into the globes darkest corners truth will ultimately expose all lies NASA’s satellites circle Tropic of Cancer latitudes cameras pinpoint the disease metastasizing in the body of Homs from stratospheric limits sensitive lenses read the names magic markers have scrawled onto white sheets covering the dead YouTube gets Oscar consideration for grisly cinematography a real-time visceral docudrama of panting fascists gleefully tramping through the desecrated streets coolly administering a coup de gras to a city on its knees, pleading release from an **** of incessant bloodletting twitter records desperate tweets the batting wings of endangered flocks furiously thumbing into the blogosphere calls for UN intervention that falls on blind eyes BBC reportage, the global gold standard for journalistic excellence scoops the stories of London based FSA partisans awaiting repatriation to scatter Bashar’s Kodachrome killers Has the All Seeing Eye who has graced us with sight laughingly curse us with vision? Does the One Caring Eye of the Universe bless us with perception to haunt us with images? Has The One Thats Sees Everything blinked closed the eye of compassion? Has the horror of Homs become too much even for The Universal Eye of Love? the opened eyes of a dead child reflects our cold winter of indifference demoralizing dehumanizing a watching world Music Selection Grateful Dead Eyes of the World Oakland 3/2/12 jbm
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Mar 2, 2012
Mar 2, 2012 at 12:04 PM UTC
Watching Homs
the world is adorned with a million windows the bleakest night has a thousand eyes daylight shines into the globes darkest corners truth will ultimately expose all lies NASA’s satellites circle Tropic of Cancer latitudes cameras pinpoint the disease metastasizing in the body of Homs from stratospheric limits sensitive lenses read the names magic markers have scrawled onto white sheets covering the dead YouTube gets Oscar consideration for grisly cinematography a real-time visceral docudrama of panting fascists gleefully tramping through the desecrated streets coolly administering a coup de gras to a city on its knees, pleading release from an **** of incessant bloodletting twitter records desperate tweets the batting wings of endangered flocks furiously thumbing into the blogosphere calls for UN intervention that falls on blind eyes BBC reportage, the global gold standard for journalistic excellence scoops the stories of London based FSA partisans awaiting repatriation to scatter Bashar’s Kodachrome killers Has the All Seeing Eye who has graced us with sight laughingly curse us with vision? Does the One Caring Eye of the Universe bless us with perception to haunt us with images? Has The One Thats Sees Everything blinked closed the eye of compassion? Has the horror of Homs become too much even for The Universal Eye of Love? the opened eyes of a dead child reflects our cold winter of indifference demoralizing dehumanizing a watching world Music Selection Grateful Dead Eyes of the World Oakland 3/2/12 jbm
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september has become the cruelest month reassembled hollywood disasters at their worst flipped into reality as if    we had needed that as if    we had not known       that life is fragile       and tall buildings       can collapse    taking thousands    to sudden death what is the point? to prove    that one can bring    disaster    to the undefended? to demonstrate    that minds bent    on destruction    can succeed    if they plan long enough? what a waste    of lives and minds... and more to follow most likely does wordless violence solve anything? the heartless deed the glamorous sacrifice that calls for more    and more and more neurotic spirals of destruction, retaliation and revenge instead of global peace now looms spectral war born from self-righteous pride the need to strike out    fast and hard against whoever fits intelligence-created data transferred to screens    meticulously marked coolly oblivious of the people    who work and procreate          and live    in those fluorescent blips domesticated energy serves the omnipotent    two millionaires’ sons    turned public enemies upon whose final global showdown depends the fate of yet more    women         men            and children to satisfy the need for a just universe where power flows     undisturbed by laughter    and the sounds    of real people         living    in a real world
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Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
september 11 2001
Upon the table in their bowl in violent disarray of yellow sprays, green spikes of leaves, red pointed petals and curled heads of blue and white among the litter of the forks and crumbs and plates the flowers remain composed. Coolly their colloquy continues above the coffee and loud talk grown frail as vaudeville.
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The Disputants
On the edge of my windowsill, I sit And count the little black and bustling heads Clustered down below. There is Life In the pinnacles of the trees I tower over. I feel It, breathing coolly down my neck. I am soon to be reborn, My countenance now aglow. This is my precipice. I will soar down from my mountaintop Bearing word of reclamation. I will sow my bones like seeds upon the wind.
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Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 7:00 PM UTC
Eve
264 A Weight with Needles on the pounds— To push, and pierce, besides— That if the Flesh resist the Heft— The puncture—coolly tries— That not a pore be overlooked Of all this Compound Frame— As manifold for Anguish— As Species—be—for name—
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A Weight with Needles on the pounds
971 Robbed by Death—but that was easy— To the failing Eye I could hold the latest Glowing— Robbed by Liberty For Her Jugular Defences— This, too, I endured— Hint of Glory—it afforded— For the Brave Beloved— Fraud of Distance—Fraud of Danger, Fraud of Death—to bear— It is Bounty—to Suspense’s Vague Calamity— Stalking our entire Possession On a Hair’s result— Then—seesawing—coolly—on it— Trying if it split—
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Robbed by Death—but that was easy