"cooperating" poems
I,
a colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
Would like you,
a colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
To accept, some of my
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
To join some of your
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
to create a completely separate
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
and as our
colonies of 37 trillion cooperating cells
cooperate less and less, our new
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
shall be looking for a
colony of 37 trillion cooperating cells
to repeat what countless
colonies of 37 trillion cooperating cells
have done since we swung in the trees.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM UTC
survival of the most dissociative
you don’t need anyone
to make you feel
you can feel all by yourself
you can feel any emotion you want
you have been given the full reportoire
whiteness can give you wealth
can get you ***** and enslaved
whiteness can get you anything
any type of dissociation
legal liberty
dissociative profit
an accumulation of dissociative value
to get this much sugar
dissociative cooperation of whiteness
an empire of dissociative investment
dissociative throne of power
out of control
with the need to control
anger
jealousy
envy
of those who are trying to be human
native
culture
ethnicity
anger and frustration
force and pressure to make dissociate
whiteness breathing together
against
if the cooperation of whiteness catches you
going back to help those
it tried to bury behind
dissociative reality
a desperate reality
that ceases to exist
when the intensity
of the dissociative cooperation
ceases to exist
am I the only one manifesting this honesty
a diagnosis of the diagnosers
intimate communication
tattooing the world forever
undeniable language of change
I gave all the history of dissociation
to the world
exposing abuse that is
the pride of dissociative
white supremacy
we are not the objects
of dissociative value
an association of focus
not cooperating
studying and exposing
resisting dissociation
conflicting value of nativity
accumulative value of resistance
resilience unafraid
unflinching fearless
vulnerable
reincarnating
intimate honesty
lights down low revolution
subtle
in the face of dissociative force
I need my fix of dissociation
please
do it with me
no wait
reinforce resistance
keep it up with breathing
dont conspire dissociation
I am decomposition
so I leave behind
an abrasive language
so abrasive
any remnant
of sensitivity
of dissociation
is drawn in to contemplate
to question its intentions
an exorcism of dissociative whiteness
giving into nativity
self righteousness
desperately competing to dissociate
like whiteness
**** them and you
there is beauty outside of this dissociation
Americanized
the diseased spread
of dissociative *******
dissociative procreation
the evolution of dissociative selection
Darwin’s cousin tortured and destroyed
it is fun and exciting to
denounce dissociation
do it with me
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Faces unknown, side by side;
Cooperating and mingling;
Looking for a better spot, and yet,
heading the same way.
Everyone becomes equal,
Everyone pays the same fare,
Everyone has a life,
Each as complex as the rest.
Every face is new,
Every mood different.
holding some mystery,
Each different,
None less or more.
A game of patience;
Waiting to reach the end of one path,
And the beginning of another.
A hurry to get up, and get down.
A bus, a metro, a train,
An auto and an aeroplane,
The modest pace of a tram,
The coziness of a shuttle van.
The stories in a public transport,
Are things I wouldn't wanna miss.
I shall never, for the life of me,
Stop traveling in public transport.
Without it, I wouldn't be me.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Rising from the embers
Of a love that once was
Part of me remembers
To stop and pause.
Confused and scared
I try to stand,
And there you were, you just stared
for a moment, then offered your hand.
The touch of your skin was electric
I knew from the start you were something special.
The nerves in my brain started going hectic,
But somehow, I kept myself level.
You made my heart leap
And you helped me heal,
No longer did I have to count sheep
When I had you to feel.
I fell asleep every night with a smile on my face,
But lately the tides have grown dark and rough.
I feel like I'm back in the old place,
Where love was unyielding and tough.
You change your mind like the weather,
Some days you want me, others you don't.
I thought we were birds of a feather,
But cooperating lately, you won't.
All I want is for you to give me a chance,
I know I could make you oh so happy.
But it seems that you're in a trance,
Making me feel sad and ******
The past and the future hold you back,
But I'd love you through all of it.
Compassion is not something I lack,
To you, I could really commit.
Maybe someday you'll decide what you want,
And I know I'll hang on until you do.
But 'til the day your heart decides, your face will haunt
my mind, and keep my brain askew.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
Is one type of friendship
people cooperating
to facilitate each other’s
joy and happiness?
Like friends
who play tennis together:
Tennis-Friends?
Like friends
who help each other study:
Study-friends?
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 2:37 AM UTC
By Joseph Childress
“Habeus corpus!!!”
Yelled in court
From some youngin’
In the back row
As he rose
With a roll of parchment
The constitution laid dead in his hold
.
A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes
As he glances, quickly
Behind glasses
While guards escort
The disrupter of courts
To the unknown
.
All hail the corpse of freedom!
Warranted from the lack of warnings
All hell: The corporate companies cooperating
In coup d’etats
Disguised as peace keepings
Offering the
Sacrificial kings of Africa
Offing the
Head of state
In a distasteful display of feardom
Fear dominates
The war on terrorism
Military minions pillage the dominions
Of the defenseless
The final blow
Screams
Like the Final Call
In the falling of an empire
Protesters test the unrest
And spread
Words
That are read
In the weaving of our future
Detention
Sit-ins for those who
Speak during class warfare
Constitutions re-written
To constitute illegal imprisonment
Of free
Speakers,
Thinkers,
And believers
Citizens find it harder
To not pay attention
When the war in the Middle East
Is fought in America
Patriotic Acts to enact
Unpatriotic actions
That exact
Hate on the coward-less fraction
Surveillanced
As if ass-kissing will ever be in option
They’re warning us
To stay sleep with the rest
Those who awake
Will meet a force
Worse
Than the crusades
As they raid the houses
Of our brothers, sisters, and
Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins
They will come
Like thieves in the night
To undue
The debt due to society
The battle begins,
And the Martyrs are ready.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe turned itself a flower strewn avenue to eternity that we we should be walking along,hand in hand--non-violent and cooperating.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe became a pathway to everlasting life that we should be walking along,chattering like small children.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So Isness of the Universe opened the door for me to individual Isness ?.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe laid a never ending banquet before me--urging me to eat my fill?.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe knealt and kissed my feet in adoration?.
So what?
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe caused cool waters to flow and bade me drink?.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe turned me into a singing bird sitting on a tree branch?.
So what ?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe turned me into the head of the planets first Group Consciousness?.
So what?
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe recognised my completed humanity?.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe took my hand as we strolled along the beach of life?.
So what?.
It is what is so.
So the Isness of the Universe always was and always is and forever will be us all.
No "gods" needed.
No "religions" needed.
No priests needed.
No political systems or philosophies needed.
No Minds needed.
No Conditioned Identities needed.
No GroupMinds needed.
No Group Conditioned Identities needed.
No rulers needed.
No politicians needed.
No killing needed.
No problems needed.
******** Tantric Union all the way.
www.thefournobletruthsrevised.co.uk
www.thefournobletruths.co.uk
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
In his head
A small factory
Producing
Packages of wisdom
Personnel
Cooperating
With unprecedented brilliance
The observers
The processors
The creators
All contributing
To a brand new theory
Unfortunately
The packages
Won’t be sent
The fear
Of incompleteness
Interfering with development
Oh logician
If the world could only
Feel
Your passion
Behold
Your creativity
Your theories
Would dominate the world
May 14, 2020
May 14, 2020 at 4:55 PM UTC
A widow took a stranger to her bed.
This woman was denounced before the law.
She numbly stood and heard her sentence read.
Though I suspect she knew her fate before.
She knelt, silent, in the center of the square.
No neighbor wished to be the first to stone.
At length, the foreign fighters of Isis
Grabbed the rocks and drove the lesson home.
The body, dressed in black, was dragged away.
a streak of red remained the only sign
of the price the law had made a woman pay
for the fleeting pleasure of a lovers arms.
But what of he who joined her in her sin?
He did not share her fate who shared her bed-
a “cooperating witness” for the law.
Strangely just the women wind up dead.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Dry skin,
like wine soaked paper evaporated.
Festering, tightly wound minds.
Failed attempts at human interaction,
we coexist like cars
cooperating without concern
yet never do we touch.
Coming to terms with my cold-hearted,
cynical
insensitive ways.
I am this way,
and I don't matter.
Nov 15, 2014
Nov 15, 2014 at 3:03 AM UTC
I hear the shriek of the mandrake
As my future dies
Kiss me under the cherry tree
So we can be lucky
A universal sponge absorbing fennel
Waiting for the mind’s revival
Cooperating with my enemies
Hanging by the cemetery cypress tree
The naked and cunning chameleon
Tries to show his true colors
As Cain the unicorn says,
“Have a good line”
She wears a necklace of opal
It ruins her spiritual insurance policy
Born from the foam of an underwater church
She emerges with St. Christopher
As the future Buddha’s laugh at fate
They pick the road narrow and straight
I hear the shriek of the mandrake
As my future dies
So kiss me under the cherry tree
I want to be lucky
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
I have no idea
what it is like
to be *****
I can't imagine
cooperating
while a man
thrusts his *****
inside of me.
Or even worse,
not cooperating,
and while I kick,
scream, and claw,
he yells ****
and treats me
like he would
a grapefruit
or clementine -
peeled and devoured.
I have no idea
what it is like
to have been *****
I can't imagine
telling anyone
I was used
or I was tortured
and bled and cried.
Or even worse,
seated in a court
surrounded by people
who have come to know
everything about my body
and psychological well being
as the man
who ***** me
sits in a Calvin Kline suit
twenty feet away
behind a cherry table.
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 9:20 PM UTC
Ochre scrubbed ebony skin
Wooden jewelery here and there
Picture perfect beauty in simplicity
She walked in moral fortification -
fashioned in decency
Hardwork and wisdom was her charm
Barefeet and weighted with firewood on her head
Pots and baskets she juggled in hands
and through scorching heat she focussed ahead
the dessert sand burning her feet
Not once did she say it was a plight
She was proud to be a woman
The keeper of men and children
Through rain through sunshine
cooperating with her man's other woman
She worked for survival of all
Getting up in the first light of day
Submitting and respecting
Raising her children in acceptable ways
She was the unglorified worrior
A war hero could not fit her shoe
But she didnt have that shoe
So she smiled and made her man happy,
and her children
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 7:28 AM UTC
Gazing through the looking glass, and attempting to reminisce, he lets go, relieves, and perceives.Colossi of raindrops subtly fall through sky’s shadows , violently battling the grey in great amounts, failing to come anywhere near the threshold of one’s most sensitive ear. Nature’s children appear to tremble as dark forebodings of a dreary future pervade the air. The danger and annoyances of such rarities is always given priority and significance. He misunderstands it; he believes in its false infinity.
Unable to stabilize, unable to achieve a desired normality. From every pitter, he regrets; from every patter he forgets. Forcefully drudging through the thick swamp of his mind, struggling to understand what and why, diminishing his hopes of any change, any desire. Suddenly, several elements collide against his one-way mirror in his cell and revitalize his consciousness. Looking through the droplet, his face pressed against, his mentality momentarily produces quick successions of thoughts and random impulses of recovering memory.
Every snowflake understands its place as sui generis; every raindrop understands its place as trite. The beauty of a snowflake with death, the dullness of rain with life. It’s uniformity and strict nature are necessary to sustain life, but somehow it places a bittersweet piece of an unusual feeling inside him. Its unexplainable transparency, disguising itself as invisible, but not untouchable, stimulates a sense of deep nostalgic hopelessness within him. As he discovers the profound pulchritude, and simultaneous incomprehensibility, of the paradoxical elements of natural and artificial state cooperating to achieve more of the same, he realizes more in this moment. The monotonous, repetitive beat of rain seems to harmonize in an odd manner with some contrasting presence.
A new rhythm to this sound, a new color to this sight. A particular emotion of gradually diminishing despair comes about as he observes little rain boots composing a sort of rhythmic song with the catchy beat of the rain’s clashing, the continuous flow of the tree’s trembling, the back-up percussion of the thunder’s loud suddenness, the sight of lightning's exciting flash, and the cheerful singing from their voices.Upon this feat, he accepts the shadow’s tears; no longer must he endure the pain of the past’s ********** of the future, now he begins to savor the varied colors of newfound harmony.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC
Upon appearance of an untitled poem with no body in my Drafts
<>
never have I ever
written an untitled poem,
nor painted a human sans
a head; arms, legs, o.k., but,
but when the purging urging
enwraps me at 12:22 in the AM,
i cannot birth my babies
stillborn,
unnamed, forlorn,
it’s every breath would be
an accusation, of breach, malfeasance,
a child nameless, is the worst of all orphans,
the poem’s title is its inner essence, a preface,
a forward, and epilogue, just as your names is
both begin and end, a hint of who you are and from
whence you came, and where you are bound to be bound,
it is your birth name, and final resting place, a hint of who you
we’re, ared destined to become, to be, and to come,
an entitlement!
ah you curse or bless, thy given name, no longer do
you examine it, write it repeatedly, to despise or admire
the sounds of it exiting thy mouth, a roomful of teeth
and tongue in concert cooperating and conniving, silky
hissing your who-you-are-ness, you, who are poem, exist not,
cannot be, without your entitlement; ah you pause and say
to the sleeping woman who neither hears nor cares,
who am I, who I am, and the differences
entre deux
that are my
character
yes, a untitled poem is forever
unwished, unfinished
unwashed?
and to eternity, forever lost,
unsigned, unconsigned,
unfortunate
unconsummated
Feb 6, 2024
Feb 6, 2024 at 7:36 AM UTC
it was 21:00
we were sitting on the beach underneath the sad crescent moon with cigarettes between our fingers. I still remember the bitter taste of hard liquor on my lips, the same way I still remember the lines in your misplaced palms. one shot after another, I drink you down until I'm high enough to let go. my mind starts to wander and I slowly drift away into the dark clouds, into the smooth-sailing body of water, into the sea. I wanted it to stop but my thoughts were running in full speed, going to the back of my head, replaying memories I wish to forget. I let those thoughts consume me, I let them win.
but I felt okay because it no longer hurt and I was alright.
It was 22:30
I was half asleep in the car. my mind stopped working, but my mouth wasn't cooperating. I continued to ramble about things I now don't remember. but it was him, I was talking about him, not just him but the things he had done, the things we had done. they say we drink to forget,
but I drink to remember.
and I felt okay because it no longer hurt and I was alright.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
as complex as a net of themes
metaphors are living things
language of self-minded brains
interwoven with a world thought sane
but deluded by senses and sense
cooperating just by chance
you can’t deny those alien parts
that hide within your twisted self
nor cannot face just what they are
just like you can’t escape their hollow spell
that you can’t shelve
though it’s no use to delve
chaotic like each world of thoughts
worlds are nested in each word
concepts of our looped up minds
rooted in something that we can’t find
cause we change with it and through each guess
coevolving law or mess
we can’t deny these shady parts
that constitute our very self
nor cannot guess just who we are
just like we can’t escape that fuzzy spell
that we can’t shelve
though it’s no use to delve
there is no ground to stand upon
as soon as we look what’s beneath
but in the moment we go on
a way’s rebuilt under our feet
so going on works as a ground
and there’s no way of standing still
we better swim or we will drown
we are a process at its will
only in motion we are real
so out of reach for static thoughts
there’s a dynamic self that feels
why understanding is a fitting word
since our points of view are fixed
unable to reflect the complex loop
changing within its feedbacked tricks
that chase our circling selves right through
constantly renovated tubes
we can’t deny these foreign parts
that constitute our very world
nor cannot guess where we should start
to rearrange our mental world of words
that guide our thoughts
in which we just occur
systematically blurred
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
They pepper him with questions.
They scoff at his answers.
He hasn't practiced this argument.
He doesn't know what he's talking about.
They can fix him.
What does he know?
He's just some naïve teenage punk.
Maybe he wasn't raised right.
Maybe his parents didn't teach him.
They can fix him.
They'll take him to church; that'll do it.
They'll read him scripture; that'll do it.
He's feeble. He just hasn't been shown the way.
All he needs is to be taught.
They can fix him.
But he can't be taught.
He isn't cooperating.
He's not taking them seriously.
Something must be wrong with him.
Surely it's his parents.
Or maybe it's those TV scientists.
Or maybe... it's them.
No, it couldn't be.
They've been nothing but supportive.
They've tried to help him.
All they wanted was for him to be happy.
But all that he needed to be happy was to be left alone.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
I am so convenient.
You’ll find me where I’m needed,
To he and him and they,
A word forever heeded.
I am so amenable.
Always kind, accommodating.
My man, my friend, my father,
Always cooperating.
I’m sick of only sometimes,
But I won’t complain out loud.
My drug, my grace, my enemy
I’ll never make you proud.
I hope I’ll become difficult,
Say no with insolence.
To men, to you, to anyone,
I won’t be so convenient.
Apr 11, 2024
Apr 11, 2024 at 2:44 PM UTC
To the left
and to the right
both parties listen up
With out you
both cooperating
I couldn't accomplish much
So to think
we could run a country
without working together
SEEMS DUMB
Oct 16, 2021
Oct 16, 2021 at 2:11 AM UTC
How about 8,000,000,000 Volunteers?
How about cooperating instead of competing?
How about world peace instead of pieces of the world?
How about helping instead of hurting?
How about caring then sharing?
How about not profiting from another's pain?
How about an ARMIE (Alliance to Reunite Mankind in Equality)
instead of hundred's of killing armies?
How about first making sure you've been loved, which means you are
able to love yourself, which means you are able to love others?
How about living your lives doing what you love, not doing what
you think will impress others?
How about all Citizens on Earth have their needs met equally?
How about Earth becoming the PLANET PEACE forever?
How about you becoming one of the 8,000,000,000 Volunteers?
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Oct 19, 2022
Oct 19, 2022 at 9:55 PM UTC
When my eyes stopped cooperating,
my pen became my best friend.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC