Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
J Arturo Nov 2013
it's been a while since I wrote "a day in the life" or even
those little diatribes about the girls I like
but tonight the keys on my keyboard feel shorter, somehow
more eager to go down
and I'm tired
but it's good to write.

I'll start with monday I guess because that's when today started
I don't know how I keep this up and survive, but
I'm pretty sure I've been sleeping three nights a week for
months now.
it's like... haha... a year after polyphasing I need to make up for lost time.
Monday was Dana's parents ("parental") anniversary, it says in
the pink striped box, on the week view, of my calendar
I don't remember getting up but I started the clock at 10am sharp with
"remove sets and 5 easy steps from current"
no, never mind, I remember it now
(I checked my texts)
Damian invited me to breakfast, Tuneup, I said 8:45
he said he'd be there earlier. I got there at 8:30, before him
and sat in the back room. read the cached news items on my iPad. ate
a breakfast burrito with bacon, smothered, green
because I didn't want him to see me eating, again,
a burrito with the chili inside.
but he sat in the other room with… someone I can't remember
(I heard them, grabbed my coffee and switched seats)
he had kids, though. so we talked about kids. and they talked about kids
I don't really care about describing work any more.

Dana's mad at me, now, definitely– if it's 10am on Monday
It may have started last night… I don't know. She's mad because I work all day
and she has off
not that I know what we'd do to celebrate.
I went to Northern New Mexico College… impressed Sandy... Sandy something.
Impressed Damian by impressing Sandy, and as we drive back from Española
I realize that he's somehow grown into a larger part of my life than I thought would happen
and I'm almost wondering now if
when we leave from here
Dana will be enough to fill it.

It had snowed over the weekend, the mountains above Santa Fe were red with blood and the
valley spread out beneath us was white like… "white people", and it was (I think, should have been)
dark by the time I got home.

Dana had cleaned everything… and she never cleans everything, but she was so mad
and I was mad. hell. I was mad. because I don't want to be this person either
I mean, of course I do
can we ever be anyone, but who we want to be?
but more than this person I wanted to be somebody who suffers, and suffers for something good
and I knew that I could righteously suffer for this trip and for Damian and not have to suffer
for whatever person I might be afraid of becoming.

So when I told her I was going to work all night, she was even more upset and then we were
leaving for her christmas party but I realized that I have no interest in Starbucks or
the people she works with and she had no interest in me right then so I told her I would stay and
I guess at least she only texted me three or four times furiously.

and I… worked. I could tell you how. but I don't care.
and she came home. mad.
but Jones and Katy came over later, it was my idea
and I tried to install my new electronic sensor gadget while they three
sat on the bed and read poetry
(Katy and Jones had broken up earlier that day)

and after they left… at maybe three, Dana was being nicer to me
and I held her some, and we made out, but I
but maybe, this time, it was a little more ok.

I went to breakfast, again
went to Patricia's, felt sad.
Came home, again. drove Dana to work, again.
Checked Ryan's mail box to see if I'd missed our delivery.
spent an hour and a half on Skype with Jeff, Connor listened...
I want to say admiringly

and then we took more adderall and started writing code and things got
a little fadey for a few hours, but I was ok because I am always ok and Connor
is really good at this, really– I mean. Connor is really good. and I want him to be happy.
and to try and tell him this I bought him burgers at five star (in Devargas, where we saw Todd)
and offered to give him my car.
we dropped off Katy's phone at Connor's house and came back here, took more drugs and tried to write but
it's getting over our heads now, and I'm feeling soft and strange
but soon Dana is off work and she seems, even, happy now
as we drive to Ben Sobol's birthday, where I gave him a book
and allowed myself to entertain, for a few minutes, the thought that Ryan might come to Lima. but we had to
come home

because I know I might be tired by now, know I was once before.

and tomorrow there is so much to do.

but sleep wouldn't come and I started writing my thoughts out, about instagram and privacy
and, to Damian, about whether compiling .less was worth it in the long run
and, thinking, who will argue with me like this when santa fe is done?
and then Dana and I had *** and now is the part where I sleep so hard it hurts but I keep thinking and it feels nice instead.
and so it's four am now, and I write.

and write. caught up on time.

still trying to catch my breath, from the ***– I've had a whole pack of cigarettes today, haha, maybe I'm
suffering myself to death
but mostly it doesn't even hurt, I just can't breathe, and my heart races to break free of my chest
(to go where it will be better kept).

so I wrote this because I looked down at my feet on the berber carpet lit by the rope light under our bed and I was afraid
that I might never again know what it was like to look down at something like that,
soft, orange, warm. home.
and with Dana, falling asleep to my left.

we leave for lima two weeks from today.
I told Ryan last night that it's because it's too easy here, because everything's been done
but it's a cruel thing to say… I think… when no one has it easy here, nobody has what they want
in fact it seems like almost everyone, not just here, spends most of life trying to get this
while we see our satisfaction only as an imperative to throw it away.
hey. I guess I said I'd
like to die a poet
and now it's looking that way.

and I guess the reason I keep standing outside, the reason I texted Rachel from Danny's porch is that I've always
left every place with a plan to come back to
all those Rachel's fire escapes.
but I've never yet looked back, and certainly never gone home.
so the question, as I see it now is:
am I always going forward because I've always been running away?
or is it just impossible to go back to where you came?

because I am happy here. and this, for the first time, does not feel like an escape
so I'm scared it will turn out like one anyway.
From almost a year ago today
J Arturo Jan 2016

Comes like breath, feeling the distance of
a heart you want, far away and fast asleep.
Pinpricks on light sleeping skin:
a restless stir and then forgotten.

This, a confident prison sonnet, made under
a bed in a black trash bag. Not a sonnet
a poet would construct, but sonnet-like enough
to leave you drunk.

Before last week I’d lose teeth in almost every dream:
Sometimes a front tooth would inexplicably fall away,
requiring expensive surgery:
Synthesizing a piece of plastic
into what was, once, entirely my own face.

Another: opening my mouth to introduce myself,
at some sort of business meeting. Teeth where they should be.
Then unable to speak as hundreds swelled, sprouted, fell
from factory-gums.
Trying to excuse myself to well-clad faceless men,
Blurred doll heads turned to the hostile hole in my face,
Flat planes of skin somehow emanating disgust and shame,
as yellowed little mouth bones spewed endlessly into the room,
and endlessly were replaced.

Months of these dreams built a muscle memory (that
life-affirming twitch we all have when we wake).
Alert suddenly in a cloud of cold sweat,
mouth open with hands clutching my face:
confirming tooth by tooth that each were in place.

I’m told we’re born with a visceral fear
of breaking something we can’t regrow.
She’s been here a week, and I no longer dream of teeth.
But I wake up just the same: wet and cold,
though my mouth is closed,
still reaching mindlessly for something to hold.

Remembering real change and knowing your voice:

That hearts care hard.

But can shift from heavy to sweet, and do so gently,
And do so while asleep.


A song to leave a thousand suns trembling.


Fingertips finally finding means.
Boys congregate, grow dense in your shadow:
always the odd. We, the tasteful insane:
who burn from both ends, so death
might spare us witness to the horrible
torture of slow decomposition, while
broken and weak we watch everyone we’ve
ever loved and all that was once good
grow colourless and succumb to the same slow decay,
until at last we crawl defeated into the grave.

We are selfish: we who want to never know.
We who want to be the first to go.


But your soft wet dreams left a taste that tied
nights to dawn. A single bruise. Window left open.
Someone clearly gone, yet careless with evidence.
In the bathroom, a faint honeysuckle scent.
Too sore, too tired, to comprehend what complex animal
could outdo and subdue, fiercely clawing, and teeth,
then leave such lingering sweetness when it went.

(In the kitchen there was a new vase,
in it a red chansonette: still curled into itself
in the cold of the pre-dawn house.
But as you approached, the rising sun touched
a gap between fence and garden gate,
and light reaching the flower,
like a lover, she stretched her arms to meet the day,
refracting the bright Santa Fe sun,
filling the whole room with the most delicate
red glow.

And then the light was gone. The sun had climbed.

The next morning you raced downstairs but
the angle had changed, no light came through the gate.
It stayed closed, and soon after died.

Chansonette, the flower of faith.

A brilliant and cruel animal,
astronomer and botanist, master of optics,
violent with hands delicate as flower petals.

Chansonette, the flower of faith.

A year later you put a new flower in the old vase,
a pencil mark indicating the exact place.
Started the coffee ***, daylight broke.

And in it came.


I want your futures to be maddeningly
beautiful and terrifying like a wild animal
ready to want to destroy you.


I’ve never seen you make breakfast.
But who am I to say you never make breakfast alone?

Then an unexpected sadness. Probably from lack of sleep.
And then a tear.
And then tearing a poster from the wall
For a concert missed three weeks ago.

God woke and made the flower.
The flower cannot wake and play god.


So strong, finding you lying weak,
longing for anything to fall into place.
Hit by supposed fear, then lust, and
life ****** from impossible lungs.

Born with legs, made to run.
To say.
To breathe.
To cut.
To take the time to count out
each unit of my spine.
To reach, and failing sink
into the slippery brass circles
of the self,
until the hundred metal lines are dry
and the hundred birds, so welcome, lift you back on high.


In focus: a bass-relief. Pale. Coppery.
Found in the British Museum, or similar mausoleum.
Miles of roads running beneath.
Goodbye sentences that may be pretended.
Always I, grasping at a shudder: choking
tremors into quieter worries.
Until later.
Until I can grasp the right point on the spine,
the right vertebrae,
pressing it and the human frame that comes attached
deep into beds always-washed.

Bound now.
Dirt and clothes and everything fake no longer speaking.


A woman with a plan. Running steady stairs.
Wondering how to measure the ache that comes with longing.
Waiting awake, probably loved.
When once given sadness: dried the wide and beating
insignificant sayings, pencilling each
into small red notebooks.
Then silencing the sounds from every hurtful word:
out of the air and onto the page, transformed
into the arbitrary scratches of penlines we call words.

Into the fire with them:
to the fire with regrets.
With the ashes
spring a whole field of Chansonettes

Every line ends in silence.

Build, especially.
Fill great books with great words.
Burn the rest.
In seas of ash, don’t swim: float.

There is a hunger you can’t forget:
it lives in the throat.
For Dana


No matter the title or label
None fully define that which is

That which is

Studying your hands I’ve learned
all things are possible
even though you make them seem effortless

Studying your soul I’ve learned
true strength is limitless and unmatched

Studying your arms I’ve learned
true love is unconditional

Thank you Dana
for being the first woman in my life

Thank you Bennie
for being the first sister in my life

Thank you Ma
for being my one and only

©Christopher F. Brown 2015
It hath yet to clear away
from the skies of the bereaved
hearts: of family and friends,
neighbours and colleagues, church
members and associates--the
sudden pall of smoke of sorrow
that arose a week agone, precisely
on the Lord's Day last--from the
debris of deaths of the Dana plane
accident in Lagos, Nigeria.

When that evil bruit first
on the radio i heard, like lead
sank fast to the very base of
the sea of woe, my heart; and
wailing was i within like a child
that's bereft of breast milk. I
could not my tongue find again, for
words were as sand heavy in my
mouth. All earthly pleasures did de-
part my thoughts at once, losing
all known appetites for ecstasy

For the 153 souls that perished
in the ill-fated plane crash, when
upon a two-story building with its
belly fell; killing 6 more people
besides the number aboard the aircraft
who, like everyone else on that Sunday, were
having a nice day in their various homes.

of whose tale amongst the unfortunate
victims should i tell thee: Is it
of the bright, warm and lovely lady
that came from the US to celebrate
her brother's wedding with her children
and died along with her family whole--
husband, two kids, and a set of
twins, mother, and two cousins? Or is
it of those who had gone to visit their
friends but met their death untimely
in that damaged building? Or is it
of the air hostess that was to get
married next July? Or is it of the very
reverend Cole and his darling wife?
Or is it of the brass hats, professor,
corps member and top civil servants? I can
not exhaust the tragedy's list! It's too
great a tale to be told by me--the
sad loss of precious lives like mine!

And for 3 days in grief hung the country's
flag in a half-flown position, lowering
its high head in ashes of sympathy
as the nation at large did mourn
the dead and condoled with their families.
You was like,
need your help...
I was: Yes,

Help you Odo-Ban
and ***** jeans
my only soap.

Help you Odo-Ban
and ***** jeans
my only soap.

u V p

Those my biscuits,
Ban-dana Jean...
my comely soap.


Help you Odo-Ban
and ***** jeans
my only soap.

You want to be an "activist?"  Go live on the streets..Ben Franklin lived on the streets, Karl Marx did also, Davy Crockett, come play with nothing.
Da dana da da dana da,
Da dana da da da;
Dana da ddana da,
Da dana da dada.
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2012
Even to think about such sharp devils stabs your mind somewhat they are plants defense system on the
“Great Saguaro cactus they have been shown to record changes in local rainfall and can be used to

Reconstruct climate and plant ecophsiology over the plant’s lifetime Acanthochronology thorns grow in
Timed sequence” and so doe’s human character beat back held in check this is refining at its tortuous

Best a couple of quotes if you want to be refreshed look up this great man’s quotes here are a couple
All the resources we need are in the mind. Americans learn only from catastrophe and not from experience.

– Theodore Roosevelt a fertile mind aerated by coarseness is the procurement for a fine point
Put to your life the most worthless arrogant person is one who has never struggled for the prize
That is a life lived well no matter what the circumstances they face to bow is not to suffer

Indignity but you present yourself as selfless and deserve the crown of nobility that person
Will have once worn clothes that were torn and tattered by thorns otherwise it is like uncultivated

Land its wildness pleases and feeds the eye it can roll out grand vistas spill and dip hills of
Splendor but nothing to appease physical hunger the warrior must willingly sacrifice his blood

Not a pin ***** but all that it takes to route evil and restore peace that the weak share with the
Strong the United States used these necessary building blocks where nations insert the rich and

Powerful they build with rot that will be their undoing the great story Two Years before the Mast  
tells of Richard Henry Dana JR while an undergraduate at Harvard College he had an attack of

Measles which created problems with his vision he took the action of enlisting as a common
****** feeling it could help his vision he shipped out on the brig pilgrim for a trip around the

Horn to California the initial thorn of measles started a chain of events yes the man already had
Potential but without the thorn he wouldn’t have ending up writing an American sea classic

And also from his experience with the plight of the sailors it instilled in him a deep sympathy for
The lower classes he became a prominent anti slavery activist not to many thorns that big and

He helped found the free soil party and he is credited with giving America one of its greatest
Historical record of early California he has a city named after him Dana Point and several  

Southern California schools are named for him he was on the fast track to becoming a lawyer
Then through encountering the thorns he found out life’s secret the way to unexpected

Achievement is along a path that at first only seems to hold dread but to persevere in hardship
Will lead to commanding heights not of pride and presumptuous arrogance but real humility

That is the fruited fields spoken of in America the beautiful you only rise through your
Willingness to accept abasement it is said God will resist the proud but give grace to the humble

So next time you’re faced with thorns see them as sentinels that bar the insincere but to the
faithful They show a sure path to rich fulfillment
Hal Loyd Denton Apr 2013

Even to think about such sharp devils stabs your mind somewhat they are plants defense system on the
“Great Saguaro cactus they have been shown to record changes in local rainfall and can be used to

Reconstruct climate and plant ecophsiology over the plant’s lifetime Acanthochronology thorns grow in
Timed sequence” and so doe’s human character beat back held in check this is refining at its tortuous

Best a couple of quotes if you want to be refreshed look up this great man’s quotes here are a couple
All the resources we need are in the mind. Americans learn only from catastrophe and not from experience.

– Theodore Roosevelt a fertile mind aerated by coarseness is the procurement for a fine point
Put to your life the most worthless arrogant person is one who has never struggled for the prize
That is a life lived well no matter what the circumstances they face to bow is not to suffer

Indignity but you present yourself as selfless and deserve the crown of nobility that person
Will have once worn clothes that were torn and tattered by thorns otherwise it is like uncultivated

Land its wildness pleases and feeds the eye it can roll out grand vistas spill and dip hills of
Splendor but nothing to appease physical hunger the warrior must willingly sacrifice his blood

Not a pin ***** but all that it takes to route evil and restore peace that the weak share with the
Strong the United States used these necessary building blocks where nations insert the rich and

Powerful they build with rot that will be their undoing the great story Two Years before the Mast  
tells of Richard Henry Dana JR while an undergraduate at Harvard College he had an attack of

Measles which created problems with his vision he took the action of enlisting as a common
****** feeling it could help his vision he shipped out on the brig pilgrim for a trip around the

Horn to California the initial thorn of measles started a chain of events yes the man already had
Potential but without the thorn he wouldn’t have ending up writing an American sea classic

And also from his experience with the plight of the sailors it instilled in him a deep sympathy for
The lower classes he became a prominent anti slavery activist not to many thorns that big and

He helped found the free soil party and he is credited with giving America one of its greatest
Historical record of early California he has a city named after him Dana Point and several  

Southern California schools are named for him he was on the fast track to becoming a lawyer
Then through encountering the thorns he found out life’s secret the way to unexpected

Achievement is along a path that at first only seems to hold dread but to persevere in hardship
Will lead to commanding heights not of pride and presumptuous arrogance but real humility

That is the fruited fields spoken of in America the beautiful you only rise through your
Willingness to accept abasement it is said God will resist the proud but give grace to the humble

So next time you’re faced with thorns see them as sentinels that bar the insincere but to the
faithful They show a sure path to rich fulfillment
ideocosm Dec 2013
i have not wrote to you in a while now
the stress upon my hands has became too much
every hollow bone has snapped
shards of my structure penetrate the restraints of my emotion
‘the flood gates have been opened’
my brain screeches like an old freight train
everything was silent throughout my body
like the seconds before a grenade explodes
these waves of raw, untamed passion
rushed me and bashed me in my face
i tried my best to defend myself
but I am too overwhelmed
to battle this demon
perspiration appeared on my brow
a cold sweat covered my corpse
almost as if my body used the skin as a medium
for tears of anxiety and distress
my eyes twitched and darted
from subject to subject
a burning sensation covered the area of my forearms
almost as if fire ants were gnawing on them
i look down to see no ants;
but my own fingernails digging into my flesh
a rose- colored liquid seeped from these wounds
i then soon realized why i no longer write to you
please, may i run?
with a wind in my lungs enough to fuel a truck speeding down
the highway and headed west to a place where imagery and
songs make lasting impressions; even on those who have never been there.
please, may i run?
grow tired of only dreaming in my sleep and with
blank stares at walls during NA meetings listening to a
fifty year old child speak of his glory days.
Please, may i run?
i need to be somewhere in order to be and it's
gotta be far from here because here there is no being.
please, may i run?
until the souls in my shoes are no more and left unjudged
for their actions or lack of.
© 2013 Austin Stephenson
persefona Feb 2015
mila sedi na wc solji. prebira dlacice po brezuljku. nekako odvratno ali radoznalo trazi one pod zemljom
gusto groblje-guste misli:

dve prodavacice prodaju sok od sargarepe, na smenu- jedan dan jednoj plati jednu cenu drugi dan drugoj drugu. cuti. zakopa to u zeludac. guta vazduh namazan budalom. cuti. plati.  popije samar i sok.
na ulici razmazano oker govno, kao kanapei na srebrnom tanjiru.  
preskace, obilazi ga ona. preskace, obilazi ga i pas. kisa pada, oker krem gubi gustinu, pas nece pod kisobran juri senke i zapisava skupocene alo tepsije onih kojih se i pauk plasi.
zanoktica o vrh narandzastog jezika- rekapitulacija popisanosti i pogresno usmerene finoce. krv stedljivo iz nokta curi natapajuci nepce a mrmlja da sledeci put ce...
ali verovatno nece. jer ne razume tu gadnu nepravicnost. jer to je samo princip. mozda i hoce. jer princip je i sve.
dopire krik playback narodnjaka- komsija stigao sa posla, investitor umesto izloacije sigurno je kupio dzipa.
masina se centrifugom lansira u orbitu svake sekunde- privezala bi se za nju toaltet papirom....

aman, idi uci.
bolje ces se osecati.
kraj prozora cuje se ono dete sto svira trubu.
makar jos ne moras da trazis posao. eto imas vremena da smislis sta zelis da budes.
na kraju krajeva nemas urasle dlake. i da, auto ti je parkiran divlje pokupice ga pauk sigurno. i nemas dozvolu. kese za govna su u gepeku.
trebas psa izvesti.
sutra kupices sok od sargarepe, po ne zna se kojoj ceni.

rekla bi imas princip a i lenja si.
Different Strokes reunion at the love planet, formerly Pluto

Gary, Conrad and Dana
You see our world has moved
From earth to flying around in space
For it might sound alright with you
But us dudes, didn't want to die
And now we are dead. There is nothing we can do
We can't be seen on earth you know
Because our lives down there are gone
You see we have different strokes, and you know
Different homes, yes, oh dude, different strokes to rule outer space
You see we're flying around, and we are invisible
We're flying without a care in the world
And those people who want us back on earth, we we belong
We just say, we are dead now, and that is not good at all
You see, we have different strokes you know
And different folks too, different strokes to rule, yes we'll rule
Different strokes to rule outer space
Dana'.  Yes it's great to perform on the love planet, it's so comfortable, don't you think Gary
Gary'.  Yes, it's cool and one other thing, what are you talking about Dana
Conrad'.   Hang on you two, we have reunited with one another, and Todd Bridges is the only one alive on earth, and we need to keep him away from harm, so let's sing another song
Dana, Gary and Conrad'.   You see when Willis Jackson real self was on drugs
I was so upset, oh yeah I was
Because we thought he was killing himself
And we would miss him so much
He can't hear us now, but we can stop him from doing this kind of harm to himself
And that's keeping Todd in the loop, about who loves him
You see he has his family, but we are family too
So whaddaya are ya talking about Todd Bridges
When you go back to drugs, ok see you all next time

Sent from my iPhone
Neville Johnson Jan 2019
Sue Venir loved Hugh Biquitous, but he was unreliable, so she confided this to her friend, Di Namic who confirmed he’d been seen with Penny Farthing and Miss Chevous. Then she ran into Ken Tucky, who’d just broken up with Jen Erator, and was known to hang with Mel N. Choly. Together, they and Dan Ube went to a party thrown by Perry Winkle at the house of Dana Point.

Con Valescence introduced Sue to Marine Layer who asked Mr. Tucky to join the conversation, and they’ve been conversing ever since. Lou Kemia couldn’t make the party as he was ill. This was confirmed by Nick Knack who’d been informed by Conrad Alert.

Penny Saver left early, heading over to the home of I. Stan Bul, who was throwing a celebration in honor of Hazel Nuts and Grant N. Aid, who were to be married by Will Power, though Miss Givings, his former girlfriend, did not approve. Celebrants included Buzz Saw, Ma Larkey, Ben E. Diction, ***** Pack and of course Ann I. Versary, who deemed it worthy of being remembered. Tom Foolery was always good for a laugh, which was appreciated by Art I. Face, Dee Vice and Tess Osterone.

Some chose to dine alfresco, notably Flora Fauna, Heidi **, and Ed U. Cate. Barb Ituate was a downer, though Ma Larkey tried to cheer her up, watched by Cliff Hanger who wanted to see what happened, until a dispute arose between Ana Conda and Ann Ticipation, who’d both been vying for the attention of Billy Goat.

Meanwhile, in another part of town, Terry Dactyl was in a dispute with Billy Club over Lilly White because of something Miss Conception had reported after hearing from that duo, Caesar Salad and Reuben Sandwich.

Junior Mints tried to mollify the situation with sugary statements, but was interrupted by Yuri Nal, who said he had to go, and then left with Jay Walking and they were off to congregate with Diane Tomeetya.

At the next table General Jive held court in a warlike mood,  that Cary Cature tried to lighten.  With them were Tex Arcana, whose accent was amusing to Bill Collector, Al Gorythm, Tim Buktu and Marv E. Lous, who always had a great time wherever he went.

By then, Bobby Pin, the luscious seamstress, had given up on Peter D. Out, after seeing him clowning around with Butch Wax and Slim N. None, all of them malcontents and disrupters.

In walked Daisy Chain, newly arrived  from the Southern Hemisphere, along with Sydney Australia. Klaus Trophobic had initially agreed to travel with the two of them, but said he had to stay at home. Frank O’Phile overhead this and confided to Phil O’Sophically that there is sometimes merit to such position.

The restaurant was owned by Ty ****, managed by Chuck Wagon, with the food delivered by waiters Clay *** and Terry Aki , assisted by busboyTara Misou.

The next morning, everyone gathered at the home of Dawn Patrol, who was there with her new husband, Earnest Money, after divorcing Perry Mutual. Deb Enture was her maid of honor.  Nick O’Time was nearly late to the party, driving in with Stu Debaker, via a shaky Uber driver named Manuel Shifting.

Al Acrity was his usual sunny self, but not when Den O’Thieves interrupted his conversation, which was shut down by Kay O.

Sherman Oaks and Van Nuys were late, having gotten mixed up on the location. Cliff Hanger was worried about the falling stock market, and as a result was getting drunk with Jack Daniels. Stan Dup was his usually assertive self, but was overshadowed by the always munificent Cy Pres.

Claude Hopper was dressed in yesterdays’ styles, but that didn’t matter to Dov Tail who  was going into business with Matt Chabox, known for his incendiary personality. They had two other partners to round the group out, **** Ular and Ben E. Fit.

Gar Gantuan loomed large, and was unstable when paired with Mo Mentum, who said in such situations, they needed to involve Otto Matic.

Terry Cloth was wrapped around Jan U. Ary, ogled by Barbie Queue and Coleman Lantern.
AM Jun 2015
I’ve been waiting
for ever
for someone
to get you drunk

So I could read
the words on
a screen that I
really needed to
hear from your mouth

The night I knew
you got the alcohol
choked down your throat
I waited up for
these texts from you:

I miss you.
I miss you so much.
I miss seeing you everyday.
I miss waking up next to you.
I can’t stand the idea of being away from you.
I wish I stayed.

But all you will say
the next time you see me
—if you ever want to see me is
“I hope my texts didn’t wake you up”

They didn’t.
This poetry is originally made by Dana Kathleen. I am in love with her words and I remake it. I hope it's not disappointing and you guys can still feel the emotion it brings :)
J Arturo Jul 2013
it's the morning of Tuesday
June twenty fifth, and the fog, again
rolls in against lima and listlessly scales the escarpment
and Dana (like I) high on ******* and circumstance
has gone with Chris and Cameron, to watch from the cliffs
(this time something loose has shifted, and I hope they kiss).
and Corey is here
asleep to my left
tired from a whole day of travel and
Dana calls her an insomniac but
I think she's at rest.

And an empire is how she took off her shirt
and gold is the way she doesn't object
when I trace maps in her back and put an ear to her chest.

because I don't know who this is or why
my fantasies fixated here, but they work, unbidden
behind purposed eyes
buena vida es buena ficion y
good fiction is impossible to expect.
like when under your skin, New England, dunes
drift and dance to the hand at your neck.

because I have everything I could ever want and for
me in my figured out life, these flighty daydreams aren't problems but
more like preproduction films to maybe see, to get lost in, given breath and a bit of sunlight.
because I have never heard Corey complain or object and until I do I
will continue to give to her everything I have, will continue to
try to understand the invisible hairs at the base of her spine.
try to reward what goes unrecognized.

because we're all bent up patchwork machines, and
I'm sure Corey crumbles inside as much as I, but
when you fly to peru and lay with certainty your head against mine,
into a stranger's neck, and lie still
when you could struggle to explain but don't even try
when you are beautiful, but keep on going still...

the ******* can't what my hands will,
in walking the staircase of her spine.
keep me watchful, and up all night,
to try in fingertips to recognize,
that you are beautiful and someone needs
to see you to sleep. to feel you to fly.
Alan W Jankowski Nov 2011
I see a girl with long blond hair,
So much like yours I stop and stare,
With a quizzical look she walks away,
I just stand there with nothing to say,
So many girls remind me of you,
How they move, the things they do.

I watch the sun set in the sky,
Reminding me of times gone by,
How we sat on the beach hand in hand,
Us two lovers sitting on the sand,
So many things remind me of you,
Of days gone by, when we were two.

I miss you more than you'll ever know,
I'll never understand why you had to go,
Sometimes it seems likes some kind of test,
How Heaven only takes the best,
But understand though we're apart,
You will always remain in my heart.

Written for my fiance who died of a heart attack shortly after her fortieth birthday...
Chanel McCartney Feb 2012
It all kinda seemed like yesterday that I began to unpack my car full of my things and headed in Vic Hall for the first time...
- And it all felt like yesterday when Sara was attacked by the creepy purple people in kilts and chains...
- And it was like yesterday when we met Simon and Dana and offered them a fridge...
- And it seems like yesterday when I was covered head to toe in peat moss and shaving cream in navy blue coveralls...
- And it was yesterday when we all took our first jump in the Lake off the pier
- And I could have sworn that it was yesterday when I went to my first class scared stiff just to find out that my profs were the coolest people..
- And it feels like yesterday that I met Margaret for the first time, and she thought I lived on her floor which I didn't...
- And yesterday I almost failed my first assignment and felt the tears rolling down my face, worried that I wasn't going to pass..
- And I will swear that it was Homecoming yesterday...
- And it was soo definately yesterday that Mariah, Sara and I conquered the BEHEMOTH!!!! Wonderland!
- And it definately was yesterday when Drama 100 went on their roadtrip to Gannanoque :P
- And it could have been yesterday when we went out for our first of many fire alarms in Vic...
- And it might have been yesterday when I realised that my calender is my new best friend..
- And it feels much like yesterday when my cousins came to see me and show me the best places in K-town...
- And it all went down yesterday that I wrote my first midterm...
- And alas it was yesterday that I found a boy and left him..
- And it must have been yesterday that I found out how much talent was in Drama 100's fall presentations...(especially Lab F... :P)
- And it feels just like yesterday that QMT astounded me with Jekyll and Hyde..
- And it could have been yesterday that I joined the Hip Hop class..
- And, of course, yesterday I helped organise Ale with the Profs for English DSC..
- And, yes, it was yesterday the I voted for AMS president...
- And then there was yesterday when I went to my first Hillel Dinner and loved it..
- And it was most definately yesterday when I discovered my hatred for chemistry...
- And yesterday, I went out for my room mates birthday...
- And then, yesterday, I figured out how much I love Indigo books... and Starbucks coffee..
- And yesterday I found out that people actually live in Stauffer Library.. sleep on couches...
- And it really was yesterday that I found out I was going to be a Gael and met Chris Mitchell aka our OC!! and my future Gael FAM!!!!
- And it was yesterday that I joined the costume crew for Man of la Mancha and learned how to use a sewing machine... sorry Julia :P
- And then yesterday, I went to see Ted in Anne Frank.. he was really great!
- And yesterday, I found out that Drama 100 was way more talented in their Winter Presentations...
- And it seems like yesterday that it was my last day of classes... but somehow I still had projects due..
- And it was sooo yesterday that I finished my last essay of the year...
- And it feels soo much like yesterday when I met to whole cast and crew and went to the somewhat and the gala night and closing night (the strike and cast party)!!! You guys are fantastic..
- And yesterday I began my first of many finals...
- And then yesterday I said goodbye to my lucky friends who finished before me and going home for the summer...

But it was today, as I was packing my things and talking to my parents, that they asked,"How does it feel to be finished your first of four years of university?" and I said, "It all seemed like yesterday."
Andrew T Hannah Jun 2013
If I could subjugate the seasons, and bend them full,
Unto my will, then I would make them playthings…
Like pretty maids, all in a row; and all I hate I’d cull.
Of old, I held esteem higher than bards and kings…
When the sickles fell in the corn, as the fire did roar,
The wicker man died, to the druids’ mystical chants.
I was there and in my honor the maidens sang more,
As the blood of the wicked watered growing plants!
My symbol was the ram, the horned beast of Hades,
And I am the wolf that runs wild, amongst the flocks.
My holy temple lies in the realm of the palest shades,
Cast low, yet rising ever higher from infernal rocks…
From such places have I climbed seeking my justice!
Elfin queens have donned the black courtesan gown,
And danced before my throne as many a mistress…
Their grace enhanced, by silvery slippers and crown.
I was the serpent Saint Patrick cast from out of Eire!
The children of Dana spoke of me only in whisper…
Whilst their mother kept tended, for me, a secret fire.
Only she could touch it without one burn or blister…
But her traditions are now the stuff of forgotten myth.
The gods have laid me low, seeking to humble pious,
A spirit wilder than the forest when cloaked in mists!
Though I bow to no tyranny; as a god, I was jealous.
As a man I am lonely and angry at the evils I behold,
Hungry for love and thirsty for what peace I can find.
In the name of desire, I rage until Hell’s fire is cold…
Look beyond my flesh, and do not in hubris be blind.
Know me by my words and know my love is honest,
I offer up my darkness with my light to here confess!

Descent I: The Spire of the Eye

(No heresy of Babylon, was ever so honest…
As that which captured my soul, in conquest.)

To love me, you must take my hand and so enter…
The hidden places, where not just good is centered,
But also evil the like of which you knew not I kept.
If you can understand, sweet dreams blissfully slept,
Then mayhap you can bear the nightmares’ sting…
And when all is so done, more of love we shall sing!
I am the darkness, the eye watching from the spire,
The one you deny, the embodiment of your desires.
I am the shadow, the faces in your mirror’s pane…
The one you fear, as you enter a nightmare domain!
Welcome to my paradise, let me offer you an apple,
As I send you to the Abyss on a steed lithely supple.
Behold the gardens where my kin wait to be free…
The roses there grow reddest, all from infernal seed.
I can lead you beyond the fire, if you take my hand,
For you are but a stranger, in my own strange land!
Behold the desolation, caused by the sins of man…
Would I punish humanity for it, if not for divine ban?
Nay, I am not God nor could I ever be one so aloof.
When I see the innocents who perish in disasters…
I weep for the children the most and I ask for proof,
That God cares for any soul, either here or hereafter.
Do you say wickedness lives, in the hearts of some?
I see it even on high, and wish it could be overcome.
But then somebody hurts me and I cannot forgive…
And in that hour I know why God can be full of fury.
Some pains are too much, to endure and saintly live,
I too was a child, and not a one wept for my worry!
Is my pity a service, to those who cannot be saved?
The answer is in no scripture, or on altars engraved.

Let me look into your eyes so that I might wonder,
Whilst you gaze into my own to behold the thunder!
Let us shake the heavens, until they are darkened…
Whilst those that slumber, below, violently awaken!

Descent II: The Feast of the Fallen

(No heresy of Atlantis, was ever quite blest…
As that which, here, has been shown interest.)

Behold the table I have set out for one great feast…
The wraith-maids come to dance in gowns creased,
By night-threads woven by the spiders of the pits…
As screams of the ******, provide a song most fit!
You ask, why God would create a domain like this,
A twisted realm of mad passions: and madder bliss?
It was the creation of the darkest dreams of angels,
And gods fallen, who found a home within the hells.
Where the elfin kin were remade into a dark image,
In a time lost to all history, unrecorded by any sage.
When love is denied me, I am a prisoner of the ice,
Which sweeps across my heart by sorrow’s device.
Fire and ice lie before you, within my soul reflected,
The origin of this nightmare you dream unprotected!
Do you feel the chill that I kept from all who’d pry?
Now you know how awful is loneliness, and why…
To bear it any longer would be verily to lose myself.
Far better is companionship, for the spiritual health!
Oh the irony of the ignorant who called me maker…
Knowing not, the blasphemy to which they commit!
Woe unto the repast prepared for them by a baker,
Who serves them the poisons to which they submit!
Only love can provide release that passion can seal.
Awaken me from my nightmare, with a love so real!
Black webs stretch across gulfs where vultures soar,
And I know how terrible goodness can be, unveiled.
For there is a terrible righteousness at Hell’s door…
Hotter than the sun over the waves man once sailed!
More terror lies in light too bright for eyes to handle,
Than the dimly flickering fires of one lit black candle.

What reflects in a mirror, naught but flesh opposed,
Is less real than midnight’s embrace, hotly imposed!
What you see in my face, only a tiny facet of a form,
Is something primal and untamed as a raging storm!

Descent III: The Light of the Dawn

(No heresy of Gnosis, which many did contest,
Was ever so revealing as what I’ve addressed.)

In a ziggurat in the center of an Eden grown so wild,
Sits enthroned, the dawn star in the form of a child…
Her power undaunted, despite her unassuming form!
For the heart is the domain, of the angel of the morn.
She is the light in the darkness that I have described,
Her soul is the flame, from which sinners would hide.
Would you sacrifice your wickedness unto her now?
Only light can forgive darkness, by grace endowed!
The banner of a ****** cross on white, unashamed,
Flies from that temple I share, with she I just named.
How many died beneath it, in the days of the sword?
What lies were men told, that evil was God’s word!
Armor is heavy, when the cause of arms is not just…
It shines less brightly, when bloodshed makes it rust.
You were not there when I knelt and wept, faithless,
Abandoning God, and lusting for a kinder mistress…
But if you would love me, you must know its’ cause!
For love I ****** myself, and did so without pause.
Through Sophia, and the child angel, God illustrated,
Unto me, the depth of the mercy I doubted did exist.
Oh Sophia, first mother of mine, how oft I hesitated,
Blind to the grace that, within us all, does so persist!
Just as in grief Athena gave herself unto tragic death,
I gave myself unto the night, for I had not a thing left.
There are sights that cannot be unseen by inner mind,
And there are sensations that cannot be taken away!
Tear away the outer garment and there you can find,
All that man is truly clad in, hidden from light of day!
To the left hand is the path: to the right hand of glory,
It is the winding way I took, throughout my life story.

Let me show you the glories of the hour of witching,
When a single tear can break one’s spirit, twitching!
Let me take you to the ball where the undead dance,
Where the dire ravens gather and the satyrs prance!

Descent IV: The Madness of Love

(No heresy of Cain, which was silenced to rest,
Was ever so damning as what I just confessed.)

For love, a brother’s very blood would I so give up.
I would heat it like a tea and pour it in a golden cup!
For love, my very flesh would I scourge, and scar…
I would offer my pain to every god to bottle in a jar!
For love, all of the earth would I conquer: lay waste.
I would build it anew, all its’ fresher delights to taste!
All of these wicked deeds would I do for one I love,
But I would never forsake her, not for angels above!
We have all had the frightful thoughts rise, unbidden,
Of which these are but a sample, of what lies hidden.
Am I good because I did not commit such mad acts?
No, for the thoughts were still mine, sharp as an axe!
To know there is evil within us is wisdom of a sort…
It means good is within to define it, granting comfort.
Once was I a god, but fell because of the inner dark,
Growing jealous and wanton, until I would not hark!
Love redeemed me before, and it can do so again…
If you love me you can, with a kiss, my torment end.
I am not a beast for awaiting beauty’s loving bounty,
Though all who live have within them a true monster.
People misunderstand much, and oft speak contrary,
Seeing not the raven until it flies up under their rafter.
Be a goddess in mortal flesh, and share my throne…
So life can be a dream, beyond mere flesh and bone.
Perhaps one must sin to know salvation’s soft touch,
Making the blessed into hedonists hungry for feeling.
I have known ambrosial delights far beyond all such,
Not by denial but by an embrace that left me reeling!
It is man, who first called me the Prince of Darkness,
Even though, of old, no such title did I once possess.

What sacrifices, as are offered: to redeem the fallen,
Cannot bring them salvation as a flower gives pollen!
What boon you grant, must be for only we to enjoy,
Cannily breaching my soul like the gates of old Troy!

Descent V: The Paradise of Perdition

(No heresy of Lucifer, with a rebellious zest…
Could shine so brightly, from east unto west.)

Trapped in memories, and tormented by my visions,
I’ll struggle ever onward making the only decisions…
Which ever my destiny allowed me freedom to bear.
If you are lost in my nightmare you had best beware!
No one can save you if you hold not love most dear,
And cannot endure darkness to conquer your fear…
For terrible is the beauty of the paradise of perdition.
But I would rather be bound there, than by tradition!
There is freedom in darkness and light there aplenty,
Not tainted by those who sold their faith, for money.
If fallen I am, at least in one way I am still redeemed:
Ever was I honest, and by me no one was deceived.
My sins have been great, and I reveled in them all…
This is where they dwell, amidst the flowers ever tall.
You have seen the surface of my darkness laid bare,
Walking in the wastelands where few would so dare.
If you love me, we can make the desolations bloom,
Build a heaven in our hell and let light replace gloom!
Joy is hedonistic, but modern man dulls it insensibly.
So why not partake, of what others fear to indulge?
The fruit that I offer you is born of true irresistibility.
The twilight of the gods begins not without a tumult!
Tell me if you be, such an adventurous and fair maid.
As Persephone was to Hades, be unto me: unafraid!
Let me touch you softly, and show you carnal virtue,
So that all the things they taught you were wicked…
Are revealed as pleasures, when passion pays a due.
Let us live and love with zest, on finer ambrosia fed!
The flames that scorch others, will be for us sensual,
In Hell is that paradise granted to the true individual.

Let me be swept away, by tides of passion carried,
Where any wish might be granted but never harried!
Let us do as we will, and that shall be our only law,
When the Abyss comes for us, we dive in its’ maw!

Ave Eous! Amor Aeternus. Gloria Paradiso Inferni!
Amorem et Lucem! Ignus Aeturnus. Ave Luci via!
Wk kortas Dec 2016
(for dana rushin)

Well, you’ve got have that moon-June thing;
Hard-coded into our DNA, after all,
But if you stop there and say Well, here it is,
You’re just playin’ chopsticks instead of concertos,
Or parsing out Monk on a Fisher-Price piano.
Story’s gotta live and breathe, see,
Just like you and me, got to have a heartbeat,
And if the tale’s told right, done truly,
Well, it’s a light goin’ on for everybody,
Be it little girls (getting the giggles
Or bein’ all mock-stern with you,
Finding a way to work it in some double-dutch rhyme)
Or old-timers, gray-haired and coke-bottle glasses,
Some of them all but blind, leaning on their canes
(But lightly, gracefully, like old soft-shoe men)
And one of them likely to chuckle softly,
And say Yessir, that’s how it is.
You tell it now, son—story’s big as a house,
Big as the whole **** universe
kyle Shirley May 2017
I was a fool and she was a fool, in this summer living carelessly,
But I loved with a love that was more than love-
I, and my Dana Marie-
With a love that the snake in the grass coveted her and me....
the mother of the love was cindy. she lives as wari and has no longer power. her beauty is renowned and she should rule.

argentina was the land of dd but mexico was goal and it was dana's land. dana is alive but needs to take control.

germany was grand and elsa was their king. elizabeth will rule. william was leam and harry was star. charles was ruu.


the leader of the wall must take the city down dunstable will rule but row must take command (paul p) just lift the iron up and drink the holy well. paul (row my) must lead the way and let the city fall like jerico to row.

sibelius was chief his love could control hell. his land was mexico. he will return in 100 years. for now his son razor must reign. razor reigns already he was always strong with his power.

anthony (anthony p) is still rome. druididous stole from anthony. italy will love his power. his father still lives. he was known as tora. he will always save his people every time. (anthony and cleopatra).

simon (simon d) was the bell of the dance. his land was the guard of the law, his saviour was the christ.

palastine was oscar's (livin christ) land. he loved the people first and then the chosen leader. china stole his heart but his mother's magic eye was always the greener for the dome of the bar which was his mother's land.

syria was kim's the turks obeyed her law and her partner simon rice was the lord of undeceived. (kim's favourite sword - immaculate) kim would only ever give land to someone who beat her in a sword fight.

pakistan was morrow. morrow still lives. i will give him pakistan tomorrow.

laura (y) was time of space. her land was always persia. she always controlled the south and gail (r) did not deceive.

gail was the haunted skull. her wind would launch the sail. her seas were ever brave and her love was always true. persia (north)
was her heart. never steal her heart.

spain was not my son he was never in my life but portugal was spain and gavin (p) was their king.

the catharsis will run and run. i will never be deceived the gate is always closed for love is in our hearts.


gina (p) was our queen her lands would always flow. china stole her heart but england was her throne. ( i would like gina to come back to china to bend for the corn) gina's mother was druella in the ancient times.

david (b) was the king, he was the lionheart. he was our favourite king and no man could deceive.


gavin (p) was the james and diamond was his jewel. diamond is his wife and he must now command for nothing could corrupt.

stuart scotten was a scotish noble.

michael never ruled but no man thought he should his love was always wine and wine should not be loved. (as usual we will give him the principality of lowe as a gift so he does not destroy everyone).

serbia was the good, the love that jesus saw. give my son his thone. the love will be believed. in ancient histories serbia was known as dela. (see note lower serbia is now held by lassa and tal as guardians of the land below mount denar.) serbia and palastine must live in peace now the jew is gone who wanted to hurt palastine so much her people were forced south.

ok important note. we believe serbia was originally dunne but he always wanted land so he was not allowed back to earth. his lands were south of mount denar. oscar/ the christ/ the livin held after dunne left the earth but it was eventually agreed serbia below mount denar would be loved by tal and lassa as guardians of the land.

iatilahhomanne is the blue sky is yugoslavia. his wife is doran. she was his love. his old name was swee. yugoslavia is west of tee and north of do or die generally it is where teem is now. (old dree) their language was hebrew their god was jesus. the jews wanted christ to be their god not their christ. it is easy to find yugoslavia of the old world it is next to dree (ethiopia) and west of door. we believe they were also palastinian descent in the old world.  

pakistan was blue, she gave it to her heart and lassa always rules. lassa is alive give him his power back. no man then will grieve for joshua is back.

australia is madam it must return her power she knows the paths of peace and lives as mary rose.

newzealand is (d) (not good) madam must take control or ruby (a place) will aspire.

america is (d) she seethes to take the land. her hatred scalds and scalds it was berire's land. berire was the chief his land was mule and strike the karaoke's scream i will protect his thone.

orinoco should control his mind is always lead he knows no dark of heart and all his love is treve.

treve is always beth but she was ian's soul. please leave me ian's heart and yours should be atol.

atol would not be right. orinoco always marries beth (yet again). gail will not marry jet.

jason (rye) was no fool his lands were israel's heart. he loved the soul of rule but simon (d) could command.

kirby was the goo, india his throne. he was the amicable man his love was always christ the taj mahal he built and that was his home.


i only want to love one girl, her name is beth. her love is like a bird that listens to the sky and then listens to all my love for her.


denmark was lasa at the dawn of time demeter is the rule and she's the queen of time. demeter now is young she is the queen of time her land is do or die and masa must command.


was the house built by the sea it was eric's house and he was the son of the man he was the love of the life and he lives these days as stan.

france was warren hall but i must now be true. please give my catherine (m) land for aragon must rule. she was also in the ancient history joan of arc.

paul (p) row my (principality palace in tlau.) dunstable took paul's money.

laura y (south china) it was the bys that took laura's money.

mowh has saved the word in china but as usual she tried to take power and had to be destroyed..

in venice beth was cocyo (the giver of bliss)  ( row cocco)

stav in south china is oscar's principality. stav is where oscar (the livin) is always happy. tao (ian and my son) loves to live in lowe.

the emperor of berling (north west south china) should have been. martin j. his brother originally drim dra dro was originally the prince of lowe but when i gave martin his territory in berling nick j became the prince of toi with the principality of toi. this was true in ancient times. martin was known as jo.  

orinoco was the emperor of china. the world was the waiting because the love would always be good.  

skybird drew was ray son. drew were the rightful thone of japan. the drew meant the solace of the earth.

gina in venice was tray.

ian's mother was fred.

eusebius was the poet of the heart.

eri (y) sometimes marries the man of the water.

michael is the guardian of the keep. i will always love my true.

helen (v) was the lover of the vine. she was chinese but had no throne.

claire was jezibel.

david was dow and fun

dunstable was char the feather of the water. he stole row fun.

in venice
eri was elea
laura was dezibel
gavin was cla

i have accepted as a gift a principality province in tithale.

kim of indonisia was the man the people loved. kim of the creator. we used to call kim the good man of our lives and the gentle spirit. everything of his goodness is returned.

our love was the strength of the world.

solace was drew. drew was the noblest family of all.

laura (y) was the mwang the rulers of the town and they were always princes.

in 1288 beth said goodness is more powerful than evil.

watling, turner and maccarthy were forced.

i am the family of fwoah.

lauren fwoah meant lauren the beautiful.

it was the evil family foo who made everybody born (or moved) to england. i demand all their money returned.

trump was the man of the star. he wanted the world to be quiet but loved. his name was choo. his current wife is belle and she was always his queen. his throne is peru.

boris was the baron of the star. your wife is livia and your land was mexico and your name was boro. your son was stevio the prayer of the mind and bringer of peace.

blair was catcho, the man who spent the fun. his original land was japan and he was noble but not the throne. the throne is now skybird drew.

it was the swinster family who hurt diana.

the current emperor of china is loco. he will give the territories to beth. his wife was the queen of the north.

*** (orinoco) was the conqueror of time. his destiny was power. he always loved beth and his province was the south.

japan is dalta at the moment it should have been drew. he stole for power as the armies wouldn't work. he wanted peru but i will not give peru for his destiny is fire!

peru should be malta but malta should be fire the love was the love of the love was always peru and peru should be ruled by scotland.

india was palm of par he was death of silence he was a resiliant man and today he lives as par.

atlantis was my sky i'll always love her heart. her chimney burnt to flame when carthage stole my love. phonecia was the blue and blue as of the wave (m) does wish but it is oscar's soul.

ian wynn was wales his love was orinoco. his daughter still lives as simone.

anthony (rome) was cabra in italy and dree in china which meant love me love. he was also lieu which meant the loved. (anthony and cleopatra)

lean built pisa tower. he was best at food.

row meant delight the sky.

the agha khan was dal which meant the love. he believes his true throne tunisia. i believe this is correct. also iran and iraq.

tin is throne of india.

del was the true throne of sweden. he is in charge.

norway was lion's land. it belongs to strong. who lives as guy.

the shah of iran was simon rice's father. he was the true throne. he was known as tal, which meant the good leader. iraq was also his which was the flower of land, denmark was also tal's land because yassa pretended lassa, this meant the throne was wrong but tal is lawful throne and lassa agrees.

godolphin was the arabian throne.

gina's money was taken by tong and fau who was the imposter winner of gold. they are both dead.

beth's love was the strength of the world.

drua took beth's seal in the china parliament. he stole my money. i was the word of china. i will return and take my rightful seat. my friend the shah of iran has already bought me the principality of siam and principality stav for my livin/oscar/christ ( oscar was born 25/12/97 this is the truth) as a wedding present. my mother gail has bought blue principality province. lowe i have agreed purchase when fun returned for my tao and my michaels.

gina was croan in china.

laura (y) married fleep.

dree took beth's money by pretending royal blood.

dominic (b) was poland of the ancient worlds his charm was nina and she was the curl. nina was so beautiful no man could ever resist, deceit could not destroy them there would always be a whirl!
Zack Phillips Apr 2014
Please tell me how I'm wrong
Please tell me that you're right
Please explain to me how you didn't break my heart
Please tell my friends that I'm okay
Please understand, I've thought this through
Please, I want to say these things to you
If they're wrong, tell me why, and then I'll believe you
But so far, you've just told me they're wrong
And asked me to get on with my life
I'm sorry I'm hung up
I'm sorry I can't let go
I'm sorry that you're the only person that meant a **** to me
I'm sorry that I wasn't cool with the way you wanted to live your life
I'm sorry that even now, you mock, and despise me
I'm sorry that this poem will do nothing
But I hope that it will tell you
Something that you need to know
You're not always right
I'm not either
I find out when you are when I listen to you.
Do you find out that way too?
"O' Circle O' ancient standing stones
        that excites the senses, chills the bones
        O' but to know the secrets contained in thee
        If but one secret, you'd give to me."

        When times were ancient, old and worn
        and priests,those Druids in secrets sworn
        To cast like Merlin amongst the breeze
        the secrets of Oak and Rowan trees.

        The wise ones in circles of primal flame
        would cast and call upon the sacred name
        The elements would shake at this request
        knowing to well the Grails Holy guest.

        The Heavens would darken, the thunder's roar
        As lightning would strike into Earths central core
        The Sea's would rumble ,roar and over flow
        and all the Earth would shake wishing to know.

        The Sigil, the Talisman,what form it took
        What mighty symbol could life's foundations have shook
        "No mortal man this, with powers so grand
        Is Merlin but a Mortal,or a God upon the land?"

        For in Sacred groves under Beltane's flame
        come the cries of the Lords born without name
        and above the horizon, twined with the Moon
        arises the Heavenly Mother to her full bloom.

        Dance young Maidens,lease forth your cry
        come in songs O' joy, let your emotions fly
        Young Celtic warrior brave ,portray you your glory
        and give Honor to Honor, Holy to Holy.

        Look at Merlin, how he walks with the fire
        Filled with the passions of Life's true desire
        Watch him grow ,take wing and fly
        upon the breath of the Dragon ,in the sky.

        So set sail ye the soul, that ancient form
        and cast forth thy will into the depths of the storm
        Follow ye, the wind from the Sacred East
        and there meet the mighty man and priest.

        Release your bonds, set free your heart
        gaze within the depths of one's inner part
        Then take hold the maiden, Mother and old Hag
        Love them equally and do not sag.

        Give freely of thy spirit,receive nothing in return
        then come Earth's Child to the Stones to learn
        The secrets of secrets,within each of us one
        that by which all is cast and eventually is done.

        Then be you like Merlin and others before
        that have entered our gardens,Returned form behind it's door
        So fear ye none save yourself, that is the truth
        something one can never learn, while their mind plays in youth.

        But gather you together the strength of the will
        Once that be done, Son, then you shall we fill
        And the days shall sing of praises, the rain shall fall like wine
        Invigorating the Earth,making all once again mine.

        Such shall it be, the day a Merlin shall arise
        to relieve the pain and suffering of Man's stifled cries
        For we are the Ancient of Ancients,Born but with one name
        We are the keepers of the Soul's of Arianrod and Heaven's great flame.

        To whom ever dares, wishes or enters here
        Let him meet first his deepest darkest fear
        And should he surpass all tests and walk on through
        Then behold the cauldron of rebirth awaits you.

        For the Rod of Merlin shall await the one
        and the Crown of Dana,bold as the sun
        Then shall we come with hearts full and rich
        To teach our secrets, their tone, Their pitch.

        Alas, fulfilling the destiny we made e'er so long ago
        the returning age of Arthur, for all to Know.

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Saša D Lović Sep 2014

gledao je dugo svoju sen
zakrvavljenim očima
  grlo mu se grčilo

sekiru sa zida da ponese
u šumu
  šta bi drugo

inače često dovodi sebe
u takvu situaciju
  ne zbog nečeg patološkog

ne zbog neke skrivene želje
već zbog šume
  ona je i ovog puta kriva

usne su mu drhtale
šumom odzvanjao njegov dah
  drveće počelo da vrišti

suze cerove kvasile humus
no to ga ovog puta ne pokoleba
  ovog puta otići će mnogo dalje

na sekiru pade zrak
i ona umi njegovo telo
  svojim sjajem


mala fide
dim se vije mehovi nadimaju
  čekići biju

znojavi kovači brkove suku
piju vodu metal stenje
  pod serijom teških udaraca

crveni se još nerođena sekira
u agoniji nastajanja
  sijaju se oštri zub i uvo tupo

pa je utom zgrabiše klešta
sve zaneme
  sve sačeka prvi vrisak

susret sa vodom
mala fide
  šta avaj nastade


u početku beše raka
i on je plesao oko nje
  poslednji ples

uma atrofičnog
udovi mu leteli sekli etar
  bale kvasila mu lice

očiju zakrvavljenih
ni glasa da pusti
  zmije su stenjale upregnute

niz amove otrov se slivao
raka poče da biva jezero
  drveće spustilo grane

i sve više grdilo mu lice
o boli
  ples je bivao sve sporiji

ptice su sve tiše rikale
iz tame poče da se rađa tama
  grđa i crnja

muve su naokolo zujale
drveće počelo da vrišti
  suze cerove kvasile humus


i kako je plakala sekira
naišavši na kamen
  vatrene suze prštale naokolo

kamen se vrteo kamen je jeo
vatrene suze
  i zub oštriji postajaše

svetlost njena poče da izjeda tamu
grđu i crnju
  od one pređašnje

pade zrak na nagrđeno lice
i stade sa plesom
  zmijama skide jaram

umi udove svoje u jezeru
urlik zapara galamu oko njega
  i nastade tišina tišina tišina

kezio se njegov lik
sa mirne površine
  progledao je


u početku beše i šuma
prašuma beskrajna
  u umu njegovom atrofičnom

i u njoj on i ona u njemu
  plakao on plakala i šuma

jeli jedno drugo
grlo mu se grčilo
  udovi sušili crni dani behu

anđeli su sletali
kljucali mu oči
  koje su bile voda

donosili vatru u prašumu
da sagori um njegov atrofični
  vatra se gasila

donosili i vodu vodu mutnu vodu bistru
belu crvenu zelenu bilo kakvu
  voda se gasila


išla je sekira iz ruke u ruku
brzo i sigurno
  kroz vatru kroz vodu

padale glave
padalo drveće
  zub oštriji uvo tuplje držalje crnje

od krvi od zemlje
sekira je kružila
  tog su dana žene crno mleko muzle

ah nesreće
ptice su sve divlje rikale
  muve su zujale

pauci se razmrežaše
između prstiju njegovih
  ključala je lava u grudima šume

kezio se njegov lik
sa mirne površine


sa rukom stopila se sekira
skameni se dah pogled znoj
  kidao je dronjke od odeće

bale kvasila mu lice
konji su bili nemirni
  anđeoskim hučanjem šuma ga zvala

lišće je padalo sa drveća
magla proždirala etar
  ptice behu odletele

rožnjače mu se zabrazdiše
srce poče da kuca
  sekira urliče

anđeli behu odleteli
samo su muve zujale
  on penio

šuma hučala
jezero ključalo


na kraju beše svetlost
prasvetlost beskrajna
  u umu njegovom atrofičnom

i u njoj on i ona u njemu
  smejao se on smejala se i svetlost

jeli jedno drugo
grlo mu se širilo
  udovi listali crni dani behu prošli

demoni su izranjali
kljucali oči
  koje su bile vatra

donosili gmazove u svetlost
da opogane um atrofični
  gmazovi se sušili

donosili pegaze sa rogom
bele crvrne zelene bilo kakve
  krila im otpadala


stajali bi sekira i on stopljeni
u agoniji
  svetlost zaslepi oko njegovo

iz rožnjače kapala je lava
tuga poče da izjeda svetlost
  grđu i crnju od pređašnje

zub tuplji uvo oštrije držalje istrošeno
pade tren na nagrđeno lice
  i poče sa plesom

zmijama jaram na vrat
kezilo se njegovo lice sa dna rake
  progledao je


granulo je sunce i nesta svetlosti
zmije su strašno siktale

gledale kako se otrov iz jezera
pretvara u oblak
  oblak zakri sunce

i njegov um atrofični
udovi mu leteli
  pogađali ptice

muve su zujale
očiju zakrvavljenih
  pusti glas planine su se tresle

vetar poče da duva
umrsi mu kosu koža mu se ospe
  iz tabana poče korenje da niče


sva se magla upi u njega
on spusti sekiru u raku
  u raku doteče lava

i ne bi više zuba oštrog uva tupog
šume prašume svetlosti prasvetlosti
  jednostavno ne bi

na kraju beše
  u agoniji

postojao je
Brooke P Jan 2018
For once, my head had nothing to say.
like a regular at a local pub,
if I ask for my "usual",
the result is my brain offering
a flood of it's cyclical thoughts
all clamoring to be heard at once.
But this time,
there was only silence.

It feels like I’m dreaming,
the atmosphere thinner than I remember,
while still trying to remind myself of reality
and I'm hoping to god
that the cliches concerning
the fleeting nature of life
maybe hold some kind of truth.

Every time there’s an upswing,
and my stomach hops up into my chest
because I’ve finally reached my pay-off,
something knocks me back
and clips chains that tether me to stability.
all the donations
all the condolences
all the "support"
don’t mean a ******* thing
if they don’t give me back my peace of mind -
and I'm scared that nothing ever will.
Martin Narrod Dec 2014
The inside's come out of the skin. Nothing is satirical. It's just not funny. Spiderwebs on the elbows and cancer coming into the ears. Hair is everywhere and all of a sudden. The writer risks blue and black blood for another second of this bliss cessation. But cleverly, sins and bedevilments come. They hide poorly or not at all. bump they go go go in the daytime while I am fastening sleep and heating up.
     The cadaver masterpiece is happening again. The same as it always was for has beens when their lucid dreaming raises the rage in their real lives.
     There isn't a safe-word, just a blanket. Two tee-shirts with signatures, and lingerie that lacks a heartbeat.
     Half a tooth brush missing the rest of its teeth, and a knit panda hat empty from above the bottom of its feet.
    To be sick of it does not make a difference. If broccoli was the word, Dana Carvey would have come to chop it up.

When it breathes my pores leak nostalgia from the predicaments; We pretended to grow up. This isn't the adventure season I hoped for. I could see the page crawling up the street beside every single cigarette I threw across the parkway. Now Michael styles the mercury, while those grown ups we knew cry themselves into a blur; Like a movie they just couldn't escape, or the way they met one half of chaste, there are just some things that shouldn't be erased.

Playing with a bazooka while emptying my ice box. I build on schemes of crazy the d oh d just wishes they could ignore. I drink lemonade, you drink lemonade. IPA after motherf*ing IPA. It is or it isn't but I'd thought you had enough trying typhoid drip one after another hysterical catastrophe. Dear I was poisoned from an ill-witted sickness, I messed around with your Blackjack and doubled-down into two black diamonds. Instead of learn'd weekly abuse.
                                                          Our island on a hundred dollar towel. An eroteme waiting to implode. Four periods every other week, I just waited for the mouse to roll.

gut rot
painful exploding pressure of the skull
does not eat
hearing increase
eyesight improvement
proudly made in the u.s.a.
chipped nail polish comes off middle fingers
does not sleep
erupts verbally
bleeds from fingertips
hates. hurts.
Be is the short form of Is
She has eyes that tell her truths
That bruise youth
But do not amuse
Ferris Bueller's muse
Silver too. Haircut rivalries.
Privy eyewitness testimonies
For assassinations that haven't
Begun happening. But rapt
The veiling attachment,
Froth of words, the disaster
Never brings.
Lies upon lies upon lies
Until we both stood up.
Written to Doc's Song (End Credit Reprise) by Rostam Batmanglij - The East (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack) and "It's You" by Robert Schwartzman from Palo Alto (Original Motion Picture Soundtrack)

Rice Krispie, you read the message wrong. You were supposed to avoid Logan Square.
Graham Nolan Apr 2012
If death did not wear black would he be taken so seriously?

If one literally wore one's heart on one's sleeve what would be the medical implications and would your friends still take you seriously?

If it is true that 'the beat goes on', is it any wonder that 'the rhythm is gonna get ya'?

When Dana sang 'All kinds of everything remind me of you', did she include rubella and death metal in this?

If a tree falls in a forest and there is no one to hear it fall does it make a sound? If a man plays cello in a forest do the trees mark him out of ten?

If the simulacra is real then surely all one needs to do is to pay more attention?  If one pays more attention, how much should one tip?

Descartes stated "I think therefore I am".  What on earth was he thinking?

Mans awareness of his mortality created the need for a divine being in order to facilitate the concept that there is life after death.  No one can say definitively if there is life after death.  Does this paradox create a dizzying confusion?  Is this confusion a lot like spending too much money in a carnival?

Britain's Got Talent: in a population of approximately 60 million, one would certainly hope so.

Is the concept of the omnipotence of god applicable if priests are unavailable for confession?

Is this a question?

Is the presence of a question mark the only thing required to ensure that something is a question?  Seven cherubs aluminium?  Is that a question!

The concept of 'keeping ones feet on the ground', by which we mean to not get carried away with success, for example, can never be difficult if one accepts the laws of gravity.

What sounds lie in the spaces between keys on a piano?

Any identifiable stimuli?
Nigel Morgan Nov 2013
After the painting by Dana Schutz

Notice the lid’s up on my piano,
to keep the strings dry.
Instead of a pool on the shiny black
hood the water just slides away.

It rains blue rain
here on the prairie,
big clouds, blue rain
coming down in arrows.

My hair’s a mess,
but I don’t care
bare-foot pianist me,
firm fingers on the keys,

you see I’m playing
Frederic Rzewski’s  
Winnsboro Blues,
those **** Cottonmill Blues,

Oh Lordy,

You know and I know,
I don’t have to tell,
Work for Tom Watson,
Got to work like hell.

*For James who likes his poetry with music
Has de beber

Totalmente este situacion
Complentamente en los sentidos de tus antepasados

Has de creer

Totalmete en el poder del ser
Solamente en un gran pasion

Has de saboriar

Totalmente los rayos del sol y la luna
Unicamente en los brillantes rayos de la alma

Has de cantar

Brevemente de los llantos
Frequentemente con tus amantes

Has de bailar

Rapidamente como los ojos del joventud
Lentamente como el sabiduria de los antiguos

Has de ser

Puramente un amalgacion
Tranquilamente tu propio verdad

Has de tocar

Suavemente al mundo que has alimentado
Firmemente al mundo que te acose

Has de saber

Hoy siempre se terminara
Y manana tienes la gracia de comenzar

Has de entender

No es el mundo que te trata de danar
Que el miedo nos dana mas que nos protégé

Has de amar

Sin ser egoista
Sin ser imbecile

Has de…
* Translated *
You should drink

Totally drink in the this situation
Every Complete feeling of your ancestors

You should believe

In the absolute power of yourself
Solely in one great passion

You Should savor

Each ray of the Sun and the Moon
Only in the brilliant rays of the soul

You should sing

Briefly of the crying
Frequently with your lovers

You should dance

Rapidly like the eyes of Youth
Slowly like the wisdom of the ancients

You should be

A Pure amalgamation
Tranquil in your personal truth

You should touch

Gently the world you fostered
Firmly the world that accosts you

You should know

Today will end
And tomorrow you have the grace to begin

You should understand

It is not the world that tries to hurt you
That fear hurts us more than protects us

You should love
Without being selfish
Without being a fool

You should…

— The End —