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Butch Decatoria Jun 2018
(The sound of breathing)

I am the air / unseen
a breath
underneath
                  the rush
                  the coffee
                  the traffic
on concrete streets

I am lifting the dirt
                  the grime
                   the dust
polluting us
I am adding wings
to the speed of your feet
to where your dreams may meet

I am the sigh
in your quivering lungs
inside your heart
                  such self defeat
when you concede to its
deceit / disease / cease to breathe
never to notice me
or listen to our song
Time’s
Wind chimes
a summer's relief / a breeze
strides along
cooling your face from the heat

Do not say you blame it all on me

Don't say I'm the purpose
                    the reason
or                  the space between
Wound of flesh, lips compulsive kiss
The mindless lies
Loss of will
between the heart & the eyes
unable and refusing to see
It’s why our love
retreats

Dagger / plunged
the deathblow
a quick hands woes

A heartless man goes
so neat and clean
so discreet
hiding in the bleak
uncaring

so...

I am the air
   you never notice me
touching
           your sorrow
            your skin
yet never being / your glee
invisible
that is how despair begins

I am the air / unseen
waiting for you to care
                        to notice
                         to open eyes, see!

I am the air, here / with you
a friend that is always
there

invisible
waiting to be / seen.

do you notice me?

(The sound of breathing)

A heart is beating.
Lub Dub Lub Dub

Did you notice
The life we misbelieve …
Us
The invisible
Unbecoming
Unloved
Edit repost
ooznozz Aug 2017
In that moment, easily manipulated; yanked
I am spinning
It doesn't matter
As I wedge myself between barely visible and “God, I’m cursed!”
No restoration... when forces tear loose from their axis

And then I was reminded, "But did they inject and inspect every single part of you?"

Whirling up and swirling blackness
Stepping over a threshold
Tumbling me over
My heart maneuvers through a block of ice,
Some kind of arctic daydream

Strangling, a wearied me
Choking whatever warmth I had left within
awakening the nightmare
And far into my space I go
My flickering space
Jostled by pulsing fingers of tumultuous

And then I was reminded, "But did they inject and inspect every single part of you?"

Thus I am dark
The end note
Now
Pouring out all things without destination
And I barely stir… Then
Snap, crackle n pop

Out at its end
Where there is nothing else
I was nuthin’ more
The coup de grâce

A slave of this -

S
      
       W

    I            
        
          R
                 L
        I  

N
          
    G
Lunacy –
A prisoner of this cartoon that’s me, Shackled too... To dark cloud Demons - No doubt!

And then I remembered that they injected and inspected every single part of me...
Ryan Apr 2018
So before we prey...I’ll hang my head...loathe
Undeserving of loving you...I know
The chastised evil will come home
So before we play pretend...I’ll string up my neck
Sow the undiscovered halo back again...I know
The cherished death blow will be beautiful
When should I go...underwhelming...I’ll hang my head...low
For I know my blackened eyes glow
The silent sirens break the windows
I know what I’ve done is miserable
So before we prey...I’ll play pretend
I’ll hang her head next to mine
I promise the death blow will be beautiful
Stefan Michener Mar 2016
Pyramid's mania
Languid pink lotus-eaters
Ominous and luminous
Faded to darkened scars
Eternity held the stars

My how you spoof yourself
Your puerile ferocity
Scuds' untamed velocity
'neath fearsome thunderstorm
Loving before you were born

Now you've gone too far
You're caught in vertigo
Spinning with nowhere to go
No one here you can call,
Nowhere else to hide at all

How's it feel all alone?
Just two inches tall, you stand
Onstage in a cold, strange land
Singing in a silver thong
Quirky tunes grace the throng

Laughter, hisses and boos
Chorus of ridicule
Pomposities of smug cool
Blinding radioactive rage
Taught in a tight cage onstage

You're clamoring now
Your timid voice starts to crack
Look to sky, no one looks back
Blood and sweat fuel the swarm
Furious scuds preview the storm

You ***** a mumbo
APOLLO Coventry hail
The Black Pharaoh wields his flail
Advent of El Diablo
Swiftly comes the deathblow

Aroused by gravity,
****** ground spins before you
******* tingle tango for two
Nobody is calling
You're fearlessly falling

The wind roars in your ears
Ridicule's easing winnow
Distorted faces in windows
Adagio Eternus
Virtue and Disgrace Opus

Beadle cleans the sidewalk
Of a Swan-song's human rubble
Whistling, he's forming a riddle
Dangerous timeless Sphinx
Bested by the modern Kings
Malice Apr 2013
Are you my shade or are you my shadow?
Will you bring me to life or deal me the deathblow?
Am I crazy for loving - crazy for needing?
Insanity leaves my exhausted brain bleeding.
You keep me at arm’s length,keep me holding
Waiting and wishing,through all of the scolding
My mind tells me something; I know I should listen
But my heart is at war... death is its mission
Death of the pain and death of the lies
Death of this ****** hope,death while I cry.
Aditi Apr 2016
A passion was awoken
That could not be tamed,
And what once was a spark
Has now left such an ugly scar

Maybe,
It's one of the love trademarks
To build up a thing
Only to watch it fall apart

So fall not
For such foolery,
Magic, these days,
Is often trickery.

Fragile as a flower,
It will softly walk in,
Persistent as a ****,
It will never leave.

There is a fine line,
Between love and madness,
You're bound to cross
If you don't keep yourself in check

As light as a wing,
It can still make your heart sink,
As tempting is its invitation
The result might still be horrendous

And the worst of all,
A deathblow,
What if the leaving stars,
Take it all?

As concrete as the ocean tides,
lasting like a kid's attention,
To fall or to take a flight,
It's your and only your choice.
Conclusion: I think they are one.
Folks, I want to tell you a story
About some brave men, men who gave
          their lives
For the cause of Freedom, men who
          left wives
And children, so that people like you
          and me
Could breathe air rich with the glory
Of human sacrifice given for their
          fellow
Man: --- Folks, the story of the Alamo!

      In Eighteen hundred and Thirty-
          six,
In San Antonio, Texas,
A hundred and eighty-some-odd men,
In late winter of that year, would try
          to fend
Off some four thousand Mexican
          troops
At an old, former Catholic church
          called the Alamo.
Headed by the shrimp, Generalissimo
Santa Anna, the Mexicans, camped in
          groups
Around the makeshift fortress, were
          determined
To capture it, and it concerned them
Not whether the takeo'er was done
          thru surrender
Or destruction. The Texans would
          defender her,
Howe'er, down to the very last man,
And it would be the Alamo's last stand.
          ---

     The cause of the battle may be
          stated briefly
For it was a reason as old as
          Humanity:
A tyrant declares the freedoms of old
          are abolished
And his new powers must be
          acknowledged:
The Constitution of Eighteen twenty-
          four
Was swept away and replaced with a
          dictator sore:
The men of the Alamo then showed
         their defiance,
With God and Right for their Reliance.
         ---

     Now, tho the situation was
        hopeless,
And the Alamo was certain to fall,
Three fiercely independent men
        would stand tall,
And lead the defenders, and with a
         boldness
Hardly equaled in the annals of
         Human History,
They all valorously engaged the
         hateful enemy.
        
     Jim Bowie was there, knife and all,
Leading a rag-tag band of volunteers,
And tho he was sickly, bedrid, too, his
         peers
Would stand by him and come
         running to his call.
     Davy Crockett, a legend in his own
         time,
From Tennessee he came to fight
         alongside
The Texan Revolutionaries,
And become one of Law and Order's
         luminaries.
     William Travis, at age twenty-six,
         he
Was the young colonel, who, with the
         fateful breath
Of courage, laid down the sentiment
         tingly
Of all those Patriots with the fearless
         words, "Victory or Death!"

     Now, come Sunday, the Sixth of
         March, ere dawn,
In ice-cold weather, the hell-bent foe,
Prodded by a pulsating but fruitless
         siege
That caused not one of those gallants
         to cringe,
Launched a mindless, all-out assault
         on the Alamo.
With cannons and rifles flaring, with
         swords drawn,
Heroically, the men inside the battered
         mission
Were putting scores of Mexicans out of
         commission
As they greeted the tumultuous
         onslaught.
O! the bloodletting that was spilt as
         they fought!
The tidal wave of red uniforms scaling
The walls and being pushed back! --
         Failing! -- Failing! --
But then succeeding! as their great
         numbers
O'ercame the valiant but
         undermanned resistance.
Like an army of ants, the prodigious,
         pernicious persistence
Of the Mexicans paid off, as the
         Alamo's cumbers
They poured o'er. Hand-to-hand
         combat ensued,
 Until every single Texan stalwart was
         pursued,
And kilt! For ninety minutes, the Earth
         shook
On her axis, as the early mornin' Sun
         would brook
No interference of his sharp gaze
That on the momentous event he sent
         his rays
Faithful upon for want of deserved
         praise.

     The end had finally come: all the
         Texan
Warriors had died at the hands of the
         Mexican
Hostiles, but they did not perish
In vain! for, a deathblow was
         administered
On the abhorrent adversary --
         considered
One of the most repugnantly feverish
Armies e'er assembled -- in a
         Samsonian form,
For, for each Texan who the Jordan
         crossed and the Gates of Trust
Passed through, eight Mexicans bit the
         dust: ---
The Alamo fell, 'tis true, but Texas was
         born!

Now, my friends, no story about the
         Alamo would be complete
If the battle of the following month
         'twern't
Included: At the San Jacinto,
The Mexicans were taking a siesta,
When the Texan Army, under the
         tactical sheet
Of surprise, stormed them, and what
         that resting outfit heard,
Besides the fire of arms, was a war cry,
         cried
Louder and more powerful than that
         rising, sleepy-eyed
Belligerent could have e'er dreamed
         of, for --- lo! ---
It 'twere the God-like war cry of ... ----
         "Remember the Alamo!"

                         ---rmjt
The phantom assassin picks up her blade of blood
Having ended the war with the demons
Thanks to the one who backed her hood
After ceasing the battle through the obstacle
Magina has done his role...he conquered the meadow
Then to ancient, his soul remains bleeding
But he can not see Mot-red's shadow
That the eye of her never blinks
She can not believe in anyone’s cry
For the demons still dwell in her shadow
As been caught in their evil’s macabre
Trusting only time can make her whole
The sacrificial of who holded them at war
Cries in the triumph of battle end
Avenged and laughed at those who tried
But never ends the duality raging within
The blood on her death sword below
A sequence of cries he cried
Her power to hide his soul at deathblow
Reigns the dawn of the glory
He had killed and been killed for his glove
Giving hand to the shadow princess
Searching for the meaning of sacrificial love
Soul always holding behind her shadow
Strength confirms but the war doesn’t dies
By the tears in the edge of her blade
With eternal rays from his eyes
The blood still fall from the heaven
Those who shielded under their stand
Bows before the tears in her eyes
His back to her soul at the demon land
Breaks the secrecy of the her mask
She lay down beside crippling soul
Rubbing his hand to let out genie
Wanting to let out the console
Only to see him smile over blushing mask
Will she never weep in the rain
Of this blushing magic killer
Knowing he always will be in pain
Fighting the joy that has never existed
There is never a higher word
To define his hand for her
Some only understands partial
The tale within the past time
what a waste Dec 2016
I see you sitting there with a thumb in your mouth
and you wonder why the words wont come out.
The kid's too stout - he's too proud - too loud.
The type to carry around a pouch of sauerkraut
then pout when everything tastes south. Outstanding!
He's damming the river to prevent the peasants from swimming,
and doesn't realize the only thing keeping him afloat is down below.
Hello? Turn them sky highs into clout, boy- make it snow!

Lord of the purple prose - (what does he mean) who knows?
Not me - I'm too busy dwindling the last of the rations;
irrationally casting matches at a long list of parched cabins.
How can you expect me to feed in an orderly fashion?
I didn't reach the top link to eat without sending a message.
Savage patch kid wielding lightsabers for utensils -
We're a rare breed bred into existence to resist all that is vintage.
Equipped with shark fangs and griffon wings,
we're here to free the underlings from redundent sufferings.
Please excuse the reign, it follows me wherever I go
like a little lost dog caught up under my toe,
gravitating towards my end-all deathblow.
You called it losing my way, I called it leveling up.

Girl you smell great.
Little Bear Aug 2016
The grinning dragon leers
with lascivious intent
it's all seeing eyes
take me in
from head
to toe
tasting me
grinding it's teeth
with just the sight of me
it wants to be fed

and in my trembling hands
i hold my sword
it lays heavy
pulling at my shoulders
but it's weight gives comfort
a credence
to the damage it will cause
to the salvation it will bring
a deathblow
with one strike
and the dragon's black heart
will be removed from it's chest
once and for all
of mankind

but it sees my fear
smells my vulnerability
as it licks at me
with it's black shining eyes
feeding from my disquiet

my back touches the door
the cold wood
is hard against my skin
but it keeps me standing

it was the last place
that he
my salvation
had touched
and still
that place
it burns through my back
giving courage
to my fearful heart

the dragon steps forward
towering
flames licking
from it's flared nostrils
moving silently
it approaches

"We meet again Little Bear..
not so brave today
are we"



part 1
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1731376/brave-little-bear/
Bard Apr 2020
Sell out a million for a billion
Bloodflow, cashflow all im feelin
Keep pumpin till oblivion
Aint no ceilin and corpses pile on

Unapologetic ******* cash rules everything now
Pathetic stay low and when I pass you better bow
Autokrat choose when the deathblow hits earth now
Fully automatic sell to to the Congo, cash for ammo

God is cash and im feelin like money
Only one I'll let in to heaven is me
Peasant blood best remember fealty
Best worship the ground beneath me

I Keep pushin on the system till it cracks
While its delegates write me a paycheck
They lick my boots while I crush your neck
They watch as you suffocate fear the plutomaniac
"One nation under god"- American Pledge of allegiance
Death of mother hallowed out silence
   more painful then  buzzing power tool,
aye never again saw,
   nor heard industriousness jollity eviced,
   contrasted when mourning did rule

wrought immediate cessation
   from his strong lance throwing arms,
   where artisanal magic did un spool
and ample tears streamed down raw cheeks
enough   o fill a pool

uncertain if sparring with depression sprung
   via loss of a Coney Island jewel
whose poverty she claimed (shamefully)
   most meals comprising thin gruel
rescuing a damsel in distress thence deceased didst fuel

   unwonted burded, and forced him to spar
   with fear he might lose the duel
left alone in a old mansion
   with only fond fading memories utmost cruel.
----------------------------------------------------------­----------
Suddenly without bedmate and counterpart
   one month shy of fifty years, no deity could answer
razor sharp emotional pain cut to the quick
   recollecting ballroom dancer

himself as a handsome youth so graceful and suave,
   fast as Bill Haley, or comet
   and lightly afoot in seventh heaven as a prancer
oh..and ever the debonair, humorous, and loving romancer
where pixie dust sprinkled via an invisible en trancer.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------­---
Uterine/ovarian Cancer metastasized
   dealing deathblow, and took more than mother away
her rigor mortis terminated love labor lost,
   whence second love sans father,
   his hands no longer did oh bay,    

whose once passion to ply his creative handiwork
   heartfelt interest hardened as sun baked clay
where formerly, he spent energy and time
Page Number Two:  

drafting designs and building ornate creations
   most every night and day,
which lifelong penchant to draw
   (deepseated and etched within his genes)
   until profound grief did flay  
dealt mortal kombat towards,
   whence toiling at basement workbench

   colored his world blackish gray
nor would he respond, and only tearful sorrow
   exuded upon losing the special maiden, whom he lay
down and begot thyself and two sisters,

   during living years sans lightness of being an a may
fly expert designer, creator and builder –
   during me chilhood objects like play  
house and Flintsone car

   (with license plate to boot), beaming with ray
dee ants at products of imagination got wrought,
   until grim reaper did slay
purposefulness and will power to remain alive  
   pronounced sadness witness loss of appetite

   and considerable diminishing beefiness obvious
  without him getting atop scale for a weigh
but fate smiled upon accursed widowerhood,

   and now for quite some time,
   a gal took hull hiking to history
   and the restaurant at the end
   of the galaxy they went – yay!
Vivek Raj Aug 2018
You ask me,
Why I'm angry all the time?

It’s no simple task,
To put on,
A straight face,
When I’ve been,
"Hurt",
By the people I hold close,
To my heart.

The biggest deathblow,
To me unknowingly,
Was you,
When you decided,
To leave me "angry".
Butch Decatoria Jun 2016
(The sound of breathing)

I am the air / unseen
a breath
underneath
                  the rush
                  the coffee
                  the traffic
on concrete streets

I am lifting the dirt
                  the grime
                   the dust
polluting us
I am adding wings
to the speed of your feet
to where your dreams may meet

I am the sigh
in your quivering lungs
inside your heart
                  such self defeat
when you concede to it
deceit / disease / cease to breathe
never to notice me
or listen to our song

everything

Wind chimes time
a summer's relief / a breeze
strides along
cooling your face from the heat

Do not say you blame it all on me

Don't say I'm the purpose
                    the reason
or                  the space between
knife and slice of skin
between the heart & the eyes
unable and refusing to see
why our love
retreats

Dagger / plunged
the deathblow
a quick hands woes

A heartless man goes
so neat and clean
so discreet
hiding in the bleak
uncaring

so...

I am the air
   you never notice me
touching
           your sorrow
            your skin
yet never being / your glee
invisible
that is how despair begins

I am the air / unseen
waiting for you to care
                        to notice
                         to open eyes, see!

I am the air, here / with you
a friend that is always
there

invisible
waiting to be / seen.

do you notice me?

(The sound of breathing)

A heart is beating.
Lub Dub Lub Dub*

Did you notice me...
Chuck Kean Aug 2022
Twilight’s Shadow

    I’m lost in my thoughts and In the
Silence of the night hear my heart beat
Life always finds a way to knock me
Down but I’ll never face defeat

I’m not a wise man by any means
But I’ve managed to survive
Ask yourself if you feel dead inside
What will make you feel alive

Take a pause feel your heart
Know the joy and know the pain
Find your reason to live
Enjoy the Sun enjoy the rain

Don’t decide to find happiness
With artificial stimulation
Search yourself like a dead poet’s society
Find your own life’s translation

Your life was a gift so live and love
If darkness hits you with a deathblow
Roll with the punch and
Dance in Twilight’s Shadow

Written By:Charles Kean
Copyright © 07/31/2022
All rights reserved
Ryan Apr 2018
The floor boards are torn
I hear laughter I fear noise
Red lights ring out so loud
But yet I’m deaf to the sound
With the windows blasted out
The rain drops drop
The boy sits still
While ropes hang low
He holds her hand
While he demands she follows
Follow him down to the laughing city
Where the people are changing all their minds it’s crazy
Hold on...don’t talk
The walk is dreary unpleasant
But just know this one boy would do anything
For you...for you
I would for you...for you I would loose control
Not look back nor think of tomorrow
Just trust me I know...
We’ll walk for what might feel like forever
Just know the deathblow will be beautiful...
Stevie Oct 2021
We all know the bullets have no name,
Murdered by a gunshot wound is the game,
But who is really to blame,
The gang, the armed person, the police,
Screaming for justice, begging them to help us, please,

See we all know that bullets have no aim,
But there always a name to be convicted or claimed,
Whether it a white victim that has no media fame,
But when it's black or Asian victim, a cop is framed,

See we all disagree or agree that racism is systemic,
But don't you see that race is governmental war, is catastrophic,
Maybe is all polemic,
That culture and race, is the source and problematic,
That human race isn't one at all, but in a state of psychogenic,
Believing in a justice or higher power,
That hating on the opposite for there history,
Will give them absolute power,
But yet it's still very much contradictory.

See I maybe the best friend or every label you know,
But I prefer Truth and honest,
Over the fiction and built upon lies,
That run our lives from now, delivering that deathblow,
Cause everything is comparable, but nothing is ever modest,
Cause even anger, happiness, murdered or natural, everything dies.

See in most cultures, you are disowned,
From your family if you're dishonest,
In some countries, you get ******,
For crimes as promised.

I don't hate communities, cults or religion,
Cause even in beliefs that committed crimes of Indigen,
See everything has morals,
But still destroying our ocean corals,
God's and Goddess are mortals,
But never seen by any portals,
I don't belief in the messages they spread,
Or the pages that wrote to be read.

See I believe in Deities not Gods or Goddess's,
I believe in Mother Nature and connections,
I thrive upon hatred and goodness,
Cause personally it's all in reflections,
I still hold faith that humans are my brothers and sisters,
But love my wild brothers and sisters more,
Whether am wounded or full of blisters,
Free my spirit, run with the pack, even in Wolf's lore.

See I don't have bullets, but I have a name,
I don't have a game, does that me being lame,
Even to connect me to humanity, just to blame,
Here a gun, a knife, even a match start the flame,
Yes am white, blue eyes, even dark hair,
But am I really to blame for how other treat you, is that fair,
You're religious or hateful, condemned for the one I love,
Should I really show that I care,
Or fear my eternity, because of someone above,
Or dismiss a book of common prayer.

See I don't judge like the mortals,
I live life by jumping each hurl, walking through portals,
See I don't care what's your religion, gender or ****** orientations,
live life by waking up, examining each daily collations,
See I refuse to see skin colour and culture,
Just to focus on mine, also dream of a better world in the future,
See the only joke I see is the news and social media,
Creating the world, that is known as Acedia,
So you want to say something is woke,
Then wake up and break the yolk,
So you want to say something is phobic,
Learn the definitions, become presbyopic.

So blame it all on Race,
Play the victim, government just played the Ace,
You scream you're angry at those in power,
But you're lover cheated, now you're acting sour,
So you want blame all society,
Playing the victim, relying on government or law compliancy,
So you want to blame homosexuality,
All cultures suffer from father absently,
So you want to blame religion,
Acting like another generation carrier pigeon,
We can blame the cancel culture,
Removing freedom of speech, basic human rights,
Say good bye to our future,
Cause nothing going to be same, but the Northern Lights,
Onoma Feb 2021
in the middle of the night

the unredeemable left undetected.

standing for the deathblow of its

blackest rose.

disinherited as far as the eye can

see.

in love with the despair that rushes

over what's too alone to abandon,

or be abandoned.

what always meant to say nothing...

cut at the root.
Oh...and hello
to you, some hours past, I
returned from counseling,
(hence this boy yent -
     albeit beastie boy
     figuratively basking
in fading afterglow)
great kickstarter session,

countless moments ago,
sans treatment plan,
she facilitated emotional airflow
i.e. Stephanie Dodds,
(sat straight as an arrow)
whereat this client purged, avow
hid lee, his ******
logical reflux backflow

(Matthew Scott Harris) did crow
     as said professionally trained
     medicine woman actively listened,
     (no doubt other male patients
     similar to yours truly entertained
     (alignment with see
     thing hormonal concurrence,
where ego super vies iz

     Id dee hot - hook line, and sinker
     attributed to Sigmund Freud,
     who sired, midwifed, and fathered
     psychoanalytic theories)
****** kindled fantasies,
viz being bedfellow
this soul, hood doth not bellow,
but keeps mum

     (during my allotted time),
yet willingly shares
with utter strangers
intimate gal olive
hunt ting fantasy,
that doth beshadow
obviously no intent to breach
     such prurient thoughts, bestow

foolscap upon mine noggin,
    and most definitely blow
future appointments
with aesthetically pleasing
(tomb maa cryptic) bowwow
wing hot diggity
dog inner primate, perhaps,
and not surprisingly get brow

beaten, where dire
***** tor of facility
    wilt hell me
"go take a hike to
****** solitary bungalow,"
where all manner of
libidinous desires wanna burrow
(where warren peace

     can thrive hare and now),
     on par with rabbit - burr reader,
which confinement would
not principally peter out
till dawning transgression vetted,
     and avered final cockrow
trumpeted, norte - til last cornrow
reaped, hence unable

to thwart counterblow
permanently, doth nada
different she hate
lustful zeal from eye
dims sum – genital fateful dayglow,
thence high lee
     grant ting deathblow
to testosterone laden satiety,

     randy proclivity, and
     concupiscent adoration from
combine nation of #endow
ments to ghost of - Grant
yule leases eyebrow
raising candy cane upon fallow

da weeder foreshadow
wing sowing field of poetically
wet dreams plying fecund,
feminine, and fertile ground
godaddy on his gangplow.
taking devil's advocate stance...,
with sharp eyed cognizance
of course Joe King abidance!

Wild eyed traitor Joe Schmoe,
albeit Democrat subjects himself to grow
wing skepticism at impeachment show
whip lashed, viz strapping **** who stow
weapons of mashed destruction
expects at least one rotten tomato,
or "mother's petrified pop slop,

electronic brickbats, et cetera
hard as(s) bupkis targeting yours truly
smack dab rendering aspiring po'
wit smashing me face
courtesy final deathblow,
while pilloried vainly
waiting for... Godot,
cuz I must say impeachment travesty

appears triumphantly *******,
where Nancy Pelosi will eat crow
proving Hillary Clinton's catchphrase
basket of deplorables apropos
aforementioned speaker of the house
tin *** dictatorial desperado
scuttling hither and yon to and fro

oddly enough even staking out
manhunt for Wizard of Oz
enlisting (right on the Dot) doggone toto
tense seat of pants increasing
stiff competition on all faux pas,
whereby freezeframe tableaux
icy (I see) as temperatures

dip down into five below
analogous to stop motion
projector manned by bonobo
sports petsmart stuff and struts
(think shock absorbed) ditto
Ringling Bros and Barnum
& Bailey Circus, where ma's yoyo

tricks, tracks, and trumps...
three ringed circus, nonetheless
(toe) nail biting suspense
amazingly graceful slick cameo
starring emperor donning
invisible new clothes
couture well worn portfolio

prosecutorial cadres itching
to dredge schmutz (quad) drilling,
and extracting ore region null
evidence upending forefathers status quo
appearing impressive bandying
sine qua non quid pro quo bingo
emphatic pedantic Latin Oh

though above named
language dead - Anglo
Saxon heavily and
will (yum) doth barr row,
especially to appear self important
those of the Senate
does saul full bellow.
(sung – in a round ***** willow warble - to the tune of --
Oh Where Oh Where has my little dog gone).

Once pronounced libido of mine
took kamikaze nose dive,
whereby about two thirds of mein kampf ago,
I yearned to be sought after beaux
yet as severely socially
anxious and withdrawn lad
present day ofttimes repeated laments
find me to crow
slamming self NOT losing
my virginity at a precocious ago,
cursing lack of tangible results courtesy

feeble attempts delivered deathblow
to a fragile ego,
and now only
as a married celibate sexagenarian
dearth of rutting thoughts
along the unforgettable lines sketched out
by storied author Eugene O'Neill  
includes lustful and romantic desire,
largely illustrated by the relationship
between Eben and Abbie

hashtagged within tragedy
Desire Under the Elms
ricochets with salient significance
an attempt by O'Neill
to adapt plot elements
and themes of Greek tragedy
to a rural New England setting
inspired by the myth of Phaedra,
Hippolytus, and Theseus,
which story of five characters
on a rural farm

in 1850s' New England,  
how their lives  
both pushed together
and pulled apart
by their conflicting desires
such aboriginal, primal,
optimal, animal, et cetera characteristics
once figuratively bounces
hither and yon, to and fro
within testosterone
powered windmills in my mind.

With a flame boy hunt
deft jais nais sais quois
firm lickey split tongue
and two bell yule yar pissant
little nippy ***** noopy ruck berry
filled up paul ling sacks
viz peppy la pew doth not peter out,
and weathers clawed rained swipes
from hello kitty when faux pas gets swung
assisting climbing Jacob's ladder

(without ***** footing,
orb bing a putz like the president)
advancing quick to attain ******* rung
while heading into a slippery sloping sluice
(with prickly endeavor emitting cleat trill
smooth sailing along a ****
re coarse upon ******* shaped pung
crossing la brea tar pits (peppered
with lai bee ha tricky
bridge over the River Kwai)

comprising ideal place de la resistance
to woo tang clan foreign nee Kate,
where two puckered
rill lee fleshy ruffling rills
tinged pinkish lips overhung
a challenging escarpment,
where many a brave
Tom, Harry or **** get hung
up, particularly while searching
for fabled “G” spot,

Fear of Flying (a bildungsroman
whose central theme couched
in the search
for self-discovery) by Erica Jung
cuz portcullis hamstrung
even the most fiercely determined
Engelbert **** per ****
necessitating the moist risky ski maneuver
as most studs know tubby gelandesprung

though ***** prize
wool worth any slimy setbacks,
where sticky **** gets flung
from angry cat,
who does not in the least find amusing,
and if further pricked with rage
not averse to hurl dung
gar (with) ease at snaky,
retractable hardened foo fighting

beastie boy twill clung
for dear life and limb
(er, or twig and berries),
while applying crampons (bivouacked
within his maxipad), viz ****
gull low, essentially a ball peen size cove
******* and hammered out
by Dashiell Hammitt, where coiled,
kinked follicles strewn tightly inlet among
pheromone laced verboten fruit.

— The End —