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D A W N May 2018
i remember the way your hair shined through the sunny day
studying the way your eyes flutter every time you stutter
the words you cant say
i remember how pleasing your voice was beneath my ears
i remember being with you
washed away my fears
do you remember the days where we used to lay in the shade?
forming figures in the clouds
having long conversations for hours
nights where we stayed up late
getting into stupid debates about who's right or wrong,
picking out the right song to play over and over again.
remember how we fought over stupid stuff?
and even though times get rough, we'd just laugh it all up
do you remember when we met in September?
in english class where the hours didn't last
and that's where it happened so fast
creating memories that we thought would remain
but all we created
was pain
and that was the last day i saw you.
sitting on the bench
with another girl
my heart clenched
cheeks tear-drenched
my pride craving for revenge.
listen darling,
i just want you to remember
from the beginning of september
remember the long-lasting splendor
the last moments of us being together
because i remembered
and dare i keep it in my heart forever.
first poem i wrote way back 2016
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
This is an edited, expanded, expounded, confounded, reverberation of Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions written months back.
Kenji Nov 2018
It's mortifying...
The dilemma, the time lapse, the wait, the clock.
The abstract that I so blatantly describe in my other writings.
Time cannot be paused, stopped...
The abstraction is so formulated into one diverse piece, the creation of such is appealing, yet reformative.
Inconsequential, to the matter of science, myth, philosophy, conduct, and everything that exists beyond our mind.
I hold onto this creation, because the conclusion of the matter holds many intellectual debates that cannot be won or answered.
It is forbidden, it's lost.
The question of right and wrong holds many definitions that are inexplicable to the concept of reality itself, when the utter illusion holds the introspection that philosophers like myself, cannot give a precise answer to.
Time will let us be.

It's a quiet storm, and I've never felt like this before.
Sometimes I think, you're just too good for me.
Nothing to say ...
Kemy Sep 2018
Can you feel it
Shh, allow the galaxy to pamper your body, blanket the essence of your mind, bit-by-bit
Travel on a higher awareness to understand the galaxy’s gentle gift
Close your eyes and allow your mind to softly drift

Soft Moonlight Dust
Illuminating the night skies, given warmth of its inner trust
Centered in the sky, a star abates for its enlighten ******
Kindred minds to enrapture, as souls physically adjust

So gentle, as a touch to the skin
An inner space to conquer, there an exploring craving begins
Awareness of self stirring into the constellation
Bodies attuned beyond the stretch of imagination
Savoring on the flavor of the alignment sweeten taste
Desires igniting an inferno, the heat of its flames refusing to wait

Overheated friction surrendering without debates
Runaway yearning weakening in the presence of fate
The ecstasy of the moonlight’s dust felt, abiding to the crack of dawn
Emotions of the elixir slowly withdrawn

A Cheshire moonrise
Always a sacred communion given in surprise
Masked feelings hidden behind the stars in our eyes
Sprinkles of pixie dust as the moon becomes full
Paired upon, as lace meets wool
Interwoven and tenderly spun on a galactic spool

Stars In Exile
Twinkling for eyes to glimpse beyond the earth’s smile
Canopus to Antares, oh how you make me shine
Closing my eyes, coveting your point as I’m making you mine

Settled and glittering as small diamonds binding in the sky
A wondrous elopement to experience in the blink of an eye
Soft whispers to the ones that shoot right before they fall
Such a beautiful and breathlessly cadence to wish under them all

The Gift Of The Sun’s Stroke
Umm, shooting stars kept me awoke
Relentless bodies bathing under the moon
Caresses, touches, entwined souls echoing the note of its weakening tunes

Sweeter and sweeter, deeper and deeper
Bodies fueled, hot as a heater, bodies climbing steeper and steeper
Heat consumes the interior of the temple
Sweat of life, as movements come together and then disassemble
Elated, sedated, dipping in a cool blue lagoon
Kisses under the sun on a beautiful afternoon
Temperatures rising not a moment too soon

June slamming into summer’s heat
A merriment of a sun stroke basking in the glorious feast
The galaxy and its spicy passion
A gift to the world to enjoy in any unbridled fashion
She would give them order. She would create constellations.
Thomas Pynchon
Vanessa Viniegra Feb 2018
(gulp)

couldn’t resist a minute more.

Relapse

I again…

After six months sober

Here.

in this pain I know all too well.

Ten years lost to this drug, my veins ache for.

First breath in the morning and last thought at night all consumed by it,

Every cell in me craves it.

That physical euphoria my body portraits.

Feels like someone has poured pure joy into every single muscle and fiber of my being.

It makes me feel so content

I am literally in love the entire world.

Every single bit of me is singing and buzzing with life and love.

It’s like the ecstasy of *******. That first, blissful, pleasurable pulsation of endorphin's and serotonin.

Is what I feel when I first take LOVE.

And then,

And then, the honeymoon stage is over.

Fights erupt,

never-ending debates,

miscommunications,

misperceptions,

no trust,

accusations,

lies,

“I’m done”



Again, it feels like a part of my soul is leaving my body.

Again, sitting here numb.

A toxic love

I’m addicted too,

And there’s no way around it.

It’s already deep intertwined with my veins.

Yet no matter the toxic tragic event that happened before, I sit here, and I want nothing more than to spend my life next to this soul.

To see his eyes unchanged as the skin around it wrinkling and old, is what my heart will always desire, to stare at those eyes for the rest of eternity.

Dead air…


















So here I’ll wait, until you decided to come into my life again and repeat this déjà vu.
Big Virge Jan 2015
The ... " Great Debate " ...
would seem to ... surround ... ?
this thing called ... " Race " ... ?
  
It makes some ... FROWN ... !!!
and ... Open ...  their mouths ...
about ... The Ways ...
  
" This Debate " ...
is ..... swept ... Awaayyyyy ..............
  
By ... " Heads of State " ...
and those who ... Claim ... !
  
That .......................................
  
"Racism displays
are minimal today
so, blacks who have a chip,
should stop, running their lips !!!"
  
Well .....
Like the ... " Young Orators "
shown in ... " The Great Debators "
  
My view is simply ... "This" ...
  
Would they rather ... ?

Blacks shoot ... Clips ... !?!
than ... use their minds to ....
  
......... " Think " ............  ???
  
A question .... when expressed ....
that ... SHOULDN'T be answered ... YES ... !!!!!
  
It's ... CLEAR ...
The ... " Great Debate " ...
will ... ALWAYS ... be this way ...
because a black whose brain ...
is used to ... " EDUCATE " ...
and ... " ELEVATE " ... our strays ...
is one who will be ... " Labelled " ...
as a person telling ... " Fables " ...
whose thoughtwaves are ...
  
........ " Unstable " .......... !!!!!
  
" A TERRORIST !!! "
" A COMMUNIST !!! "
AN UPSTART ... WHO ...
SHOULD BE ... REMOVED !!!!!
  
....... "HIS - Story" .........
  
keeps giving .... Proof ....
that ... blacks who choose ...
to ... " Raise the Roof ! " ...
when they ... " Refuse " ... !!!!!
to ... " **** and Shoot " ...
but ... choose to use ...
their ... Brain Tissue ...
to ... Air Their Views ...
on ... Race Issues ...
are ... " Demonized " ...
by those who ... "Unite" ...
behind ... " Racist Tribes ! " ...
  
It's ... NOT A GAME ... !!!!!
to face ... Race hate ... !!!
  
and now .... is ... NOT ... !
  
" The Great Debate ?!? "
  
The .... " Great Debate " ....
has .... " Clearly " .... changed ....
  
Osama ... Obama ...
all kinds of street drama ...
with the ... "Credit Crunch" ...
at ... " Number One " ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!
  
" Terrorist " .... Crimes ....
at ... Number .... Two ....
and ... Number .... Three ....
...... " No Energy " ...... !!!
  
No Oil .... No Gas .... !!!
No Cash .... No Bank .... !!!
  
No ....... Bonuses ....... !!!
The Onus is ......
  
"Diversions .... folks .... !!!
and .... that's .... NO JOKE .... !!!
  
Until I hear ....
This .... Very Quote ....
  
"The President has ...
Sold his home ... !!!!!!!!"
  
I won't adhere ...
to ... Credit Fears ... !!!
  
The Olympic Fund ...
has seen ... "No Crunch !?!" ...
  
Even though ....
Cashflow ... is ... low ?!?!?
  
Doesn't quite ... Add Up ... ?!?
  
Like ... Government Sums ... !!!
  
Their ... " Great Debates "
Don't ... seem to relate ...
"About" ... how they've ...
got .... " Empty Plates " .... !!!
  
When I see ... THEM ... Starve ...
instead of ... Laugh ... !!!
"About" ........ Policies .........
That Prove .... They're Thieves .... !!!
I'll agree ... that ... "WE" ...
have got ... Problems ... !!!
  
The type that ... mean ...
No ... Bonuses ...
for ... Board Chairmen ... !!!!!!
  
No Whitehouse ... for ...
The ... " President " ... !!!
  
No ... Number 10 ...
for the .... PM .... !!!!!
  
and ............
  
No more wars ....
where .... cash is spent ....
as if .... there's more ....
for .... "Killing Men" .... !!!!!
  
That's a ... Great Debate ...
I'd .... Undertake .... !!!!! .....
  
Non-violent acts ....
against .... Government Plans ....
  
Like .... " Corporate Expedience " .....
against .... "Civil Disobedience" ....
    
Debates like ... These ...
are ... Rarely ... Seen ...
Except ... These Days ...
on ... Movie Screens ...
  
But ....
Even then ....
  
Critics .... Defend ....
The ... Lack of Facts ...
These movies ... have ...
  
"So, A movie lied ... !!!!!"
  
How many times .... ???
has .... Hollywood ....
made things look .... " Good " ....
  
Because the ...... " Bad " .......
would ... "Dispel Facts" ...
  
........ " Societies " ..........
stick to ... like ... Glue ...
to keep the .... " Fools " ....
"Ignorant " ... to ... "Truth" ... !!!!!
  
When .... Governments ....
become .... " Unstuck " ....
who'll debate .... then .... !?!
  
The ... " Ignorant " ...
  
who've been fed ... " Lies ' ...
most of ... Their Lives ... !!!!?!!!!
  
Now .... that will be ....
A ... " Worrying Time !!!!! " ...
  
The ... " Average Joe " ...
who is ... " Gung ** " ...
Running ... "The Show" ...
when ... People ... BLOW ... !!!!!
  
It's ... happening ... NOW ... !
Some Youth are ... WILD ... !!!
  
"Running around" .....
Toting .... the style .....
of .... " Gangsta Clowns " ....
  
Guns and .... **'s ....
... in ... Videos ... !!!
  
How REAL ... are ... THEY .... ?!?!?
who get .... " Airplay " .... !???!
  
Another Debate ....
that may ... bring ... SHAME ... ?
to those with .... " Fame " ....
because their .... " Fame " ....
has been .... " Man-Made " .... !!!
  
Like ..... HIS-Story ......
Now ... seems to be ... ?
  
The Racist theme ....
of ... This Here ... Piece ...
is not all that ... it seems to be ....
  
Whether it be ... " Race " ... ?
or the ... " Exchange Rate " ... ?
or the time it ... takes ...
for ... Equality to ... Rein ... ?????
  
It is .... CLEAR ....
those who ... Orate ...
and try to ... Educate ...
  
should always have
..... A Say ... within ...
  
" The Great Debate ....... "
The Debate ... RAGES ON ... !!!
Years after I wrote this ........ !!!

Says it all really ... Smh.
Cecil Miller Mar 2018
Where were you when country music performers did not make political statements?
Did you stand or kneel when they sang, "God Bless the U.S.A."?
If the south would have won, would we really have had it made?
If you don't plan to take a stand, what are all hidden stockpiled rapidfire rifles for?
No wonder you won't talk about current events.
You have been silenced in so many debates.
Seeing how the republican officials are doing, I wouldn't want to talk about it either if I were you.
We hate to say we told you so,
But we did.
I loath hypocrisy
Ryzeofthepoet Aug 2018
Theres a lingering cloud when we conversate
An awkward vibe we never mention
Long gone are our banters and cute debates
Keeping feelings minimal, avoiding questions

The adorable messsages we used to send
Are they ever coming back or was that it?
Loving like we used to, is that real or just pretend
Keep my broken heart if we ever do split

You're slowly fading away from me
I don't even think you realise
All i can do is let you be
And let me deal with all the cries.

Perhaps it was the distance
Or maybe it was just the time
All of this gives me grievance
I just want you to remain mine.
Eryri Nov 2018
As I stand,
With Pimms in hand,
Your perfume I do sense,
(It was always pretty intense).
I fall into a trance,
As you make your entrance,
And I stare in awe,
At your fascinator.
Such exquisite taste
- surely not bought in haste -
It certainly fascinates,
And is sure to spark debates:
"Too much", "just seeking attention",
"She thinks she's Kim Kardashian".
But I think it's ace:
It accentuates your face,
Really brings out your ears.
So ignore all the sneers
Have a good night
Under the disco's light,
And I'll see you later,
For a closer look at that fascinator.
Yes, I'm my wife's traitor,
As I hope later
To be unfastening the
fascinator's fascinating fascinator.
I just like the word 'fascinator'
Marigolds Fever Sep 2018
Marigold’s fever
Heavy heart griever
Saunters in the warm breeze
With an airy sundress tease
Soft and sturdy grassy patches
Where she matches
Rows of orange and yellow stashes
Named for the steady flower
With its strong stem tower
That humid air
Quite the flare for the flowers and her hair
She sits with her mind debates
Love and flowers she waits
Even on cloudy days
Without a phase
She sits there everyday
Pondering thoughts of flower devotion from mankind
Perhaps she has given up hope
There she is not known to be a good find
Her quiet place of solitude
Has left her not to be pursued
A day has come that’s too steamy
Left her not to be able to be dreamy
Quite the wind
Has taken her pink hat for a spin
She runs to retrieve as it flips
There she falls and trips
She hears a voice
That sounds like her choice
She looks up
Sees a man holding a pup
What has caught her eye that’s much too bright
She holds her hand up high in fright
There his hand meets hers
with marigolds held in golden light
Ishika Oct 2018
Sometimes, I simply think of colours, you know.
The world is so complex, the human brain and the ocean unexplored, wars and marriages are battling with its side effects and a lot of good goes ignored, so sometimes, instead of Newton, I think of colours.
Like black. What if black is just the ink squeezed from a blind man's dreams?
And yellow, the Sun's abominable hot ****?
What if Snow White was just a Snow"man", a 5 year old created
but forgot to add the nose to?
Was it Olaf disguised as Charming who broke the sleeping curse with "true love's kiss"?
You can hit the bandwagon and say "Haha! Then, white is an angel's ****!"
And I could believe you!
I'm a believer!
I'm also a wild guesser! I'm the harlot of semantics, or whatever that is.
I have never met a naive gold digger, except of course, a gullible beggar.
I hate vulnerability, but then I hate strength too,
because I revel in crying and feeling my face wet and pretty
secretly waiting for a stranger's **** to give me sympathy.
Let me tell you something today.
You can give me food, clothing, warmth and a shelter to sleep under, but if you can't give me peace, comfort and acceptance, my world inside my mind and soul is a thunder waiting to erupt once I lose you and never bother to come back.
I would care less for love in fact.
I guess I'll go searching for a Kentucky's to ravish on a chicken leg with my legs up and heave a sigh of having found solace in no bra!
I see a rosary dangling down a fat woman's pious chest and I think of Jesus Christ.
70% of the world's population celebrate the man who died on the cross and topped it off with resurrection
And then again, I think of valiant soldiers who die on the borders trying to protect their nation
Who are grieved and honoured for a day, no, not celebrated no! They are forgotten.
This ******* contrived sense of sacrifice and nationalism is causing to humanity, its suffering and damnation.
Eve offered and Adam ate! Stupid snake! Because, when I didn't know any better I was too scared to *******!
All these esoteric questions and theories and debates and elocutions and apologetics and guesses, what's the ******* point?
The sanctimonious have the God of gaps, the Spaghetti monster for the iconoclastics and then we have the ******* with a  purpose to save the planet from overuse of plastics!
"There's a lot wrong with this world today and we MUST change IT!", asserts a 14 year old onstage in an air conditioned school,
where hundreds have gathered in an international thinktank for "imitating truce".
What is maturity? Tenacity? Or Acuity?
Do you understand subjectivity?
So, just because I'm 20 now, it's hilarious to still watch me drinking milk instead of "adult tea"?
I would rather listen to stories of people who've travelled the planet and lived to tell about it all, than load Stories on Instagram of people who barely make it across the hall.
And I wish I could say "Social media can **** my *****."
Because in this planet of intelligent creatures, one gender accuses, the other waits and muses, so the former forms a movement, hoping for some improvement, but really all this is a sham. All of this? It's just entertainment.
It's not about free will, it's about freedom.
It's not about fear and dogma, it's about reason.
It's about effortless loving with no condition. NO condition.
My mother says all the time "Live and let live", and I believe this is the only greatest gift we can give, to people around us and unto us, also to forget and forgive.
Why seek for mankind's origin and destiny? Why not find the  purpose we need to serve right now?
What can you do now?
And this will never have a proper ending, because I like it that way.
The world will never change, I snigger knowing because there was just one thing the Priest said right, "And we all like sheep have gone astray."
I will not let another pen
Script the dialogues of my life
Muse me into its version of Mary Magdalene
Turn me into my biography's silent wife

So let it be said
Black on white
Rumours are not to be fed
Gossip will be rooted before its flight

Take your actions, make your bed
And sleep with whomever you want in it
Live by the rulebook you have written and  read
None will breach this intimacy to headline it

In times of solace, you stand alone
Comfort comes from your sense of self
So many unattended messages on your phone
When you decide to prioritise your mental health

They say stories are forgotten in time
But those are also the birthplace of legends
Say enough catchy verses that slyly rhyme
Create an ageless story from fraudulent confessions

Slowly, surely, steadily
The story is shared far and wide
Bored ears latch on hungrily
Passing it on with twitchy lips now preoccupied

Like an ill-fated game of telephone
Corrupt facts easily replaced by others
Listeners adorn themselves as judges and condone
Forgetting that fiction disguises the reality of another

Laptop screens populate with invasions of privacy
As public debates forget to respect any sense of secrecy
But let the story make you its main character
And feel how suddenly your own life becomes a disaster
Penne Jan 20
Once there was a lass
Planted into a mysterious world
Does not know where to go, how to go
Three lights later, she was found
But it is not the kind of found she desires
Is there even a reason of existence
You want her to question about her sanity
Question about impossibility
Question what is underneath
Question what is on the other side
Do you think to look smart
Or do you think because you want to be mentally deranged
Does being a product mean,
To look unique, to look you know a lot more than anyone
Because insane is the new gain
Insane is the pain
Insanity is my oxygen
Does this look art to you
Just simply spilling her emotions and rants
But in reality she done nothing
So how come you label her as a product?
Everyday, questioned herself if she is even of worth
No matter where angles of skies she looked at , no answers burst
If she was born to be secluded
Does that mean she is out of this world
If she thinks differently
Does she have to change the world?
Should she be drowned in the pills of schizophrenia
To define what real art is?
To defy reality?
Is this enough
If not, then what am I
If not a product, then what
I disgrace sycophants and know-it-alls alike
Except for lucid and heavy dreamers for life
Are we bore to create a fantasy
Or altogether fall with this society
Does living in nomothethic oceans is a mistake
Talk about limitless yet senseful imagery
Chatter away with debates that activate logic which I do not have
What is more likely to balance
When there is a whole solar system to laugh at you
No, I should see more light
But what light shall I find
I do not know what is the real definition of every little thing
But I worry and think of them
They say it is the beauty
What beauty
Underneath or above
Which one did you admire first?
Do I have to question my faith
Do I have to question everything around me
Should I speak like Shakespeare
Should I speak colorful in my own language  than the language that became my mother's tongue
Should I write like an endless dictionary and a multi-faced human
Should I count every star accurately until the fall wither me
Or produce sounds alive like the city of owls
Should I make every human being smile when I cannot smile myself
Should I feel nothing but sadness for eternity
To pity me when I weave with words
Should I play like Arima
Should I paint like a museum artist
Just to call me a talent
Should I perfect my skills of every labor
Should success appear to me like magic
Should I explain the unexplainable
Or should I damage my cerebrum
Before I truly feel intelligent
Should I dance my life away like the Black Swan
Should I be tearing down politicians and teachers
Just to feel worthy
Just to be recognized in the light I desire
Or should I just look in the mirror
To check if my blood veins are still flowing
Real blood, not just veins of vain
Inhaling all the smoke of envy
I sin
I am flawful
I breathe in gold
Just to realize it is old
Just to realize my self-redeement is stone cold
Will you love and be deserved by light like that
Will you realize everyone who reads this has been **** as well
Will you realize I am not writing about myself
But what we are all afraid to admit the most
Because you are only a person
And once there was an abnormal lass
Classy J Mar 25
Once again Classy J the definition of a sin,
Deceased kindness that passes down to my kin.
Addiction restricting timeless memories that pour's softly within.
Sadly this is the only time warmth ever greets me,
Can I ever change? Beats me?
So maybe when history gets spun again and again the future has no choice but to be grim?
Fairy-tales woven into white lie's that negate horrific sins.
Minds going crazy that's got me turning into Harley Quinn.
Happily never after reforming heroes, that severs off well intended meanings.
Exceedingly dreary reality fraught with fog that makes it hard to see where we first began.  
That lights holy crosses on fire like the ku klux ****.
Entrapping lost souls inside a raven claws diadem.
No glad tidings left residing in thee,
When humanity keeps going on killing sprees.
Will we ever be truly free?
Or is freedom just a double edged poisoned sword like a hamlet tragedy?
Fending off hatred but how can one do it peacefully?
For even with civil rights the media still has no problem linching minorities!
So I’m left Watching as nightmarishly thin cows start eating up the healthy ones, who knew one vision of a Pharaoh could become reality?
For when good comes, the bad comes shortly after, so maybe instead of pointless debates we need to implement actions?
In order to have a true happily ever after!
But that all depends on us incompetent humans who divide everything and everyone into class systems.
With phobias turning others inhuman or illegal aliens that are in need for dissection.
Chopping up our own kin or refusing to vaccinate them because some stupid doctor claimed it causes autism.
So, we’d rather **** our children rather than having them associate within a disorderly spectrum.
Hmm. If you ask me that’s pretty ******* dum!
Guess that’s what happens when humanity tries to hard to get to the sun?
Thinking ourselves as God’s that be damning what others have said or done.
Getting offended over everything, man this **** is sure getting tiresome!
Nupur Chowdhury Sep 2018
I log into the network of my self-esteem,
To see the hearts and the wows and the laughs flooding in.
A simple 'like' wouldn’t cut it anymore
‘Likes’ were so 2010, even 2010 was bored.

‘Cause that’s the zeitgeist of the age, you see,
A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves.
Loves and kisses are a dime a dozen,
With a million friends and followers double.

National debates and social justice petitions,
Real crises, distorted renditions.
High definition photos of disaster zones
Flash up against cat videos on every smart phone.

Snapchat filters do not lie,
Just tell a story of hours gone by;
Selecting the perfect background, the ideal shade
To express love on the dozen’th date.

But that’s the zeitgeist of the century,
A tendency to wear hearts on sleeves.
To document in minute detail, with extensive pictorial evidence
Clockwork days of humdrum nonchalance.

And perhaps the generation that came before
Would call it vanity, vainglory, or something more.
But it ain’t like they were without their sins,
We didn’t invent tabloid columnists.

And now that we are at the end,
Let me sign off with this request:
Like, comment, and share your love
Let your heart fall out of your shirt cuff.
ash Mar 4
18
‪i remember the way your dimples popped out when you smiling.‬
‪studying the way your eyes flutter every time you stutter the words you cant say.‬
‪i remember how pleasing your voice was beneath my ears ‬
‪do you remember the days where we used to drive around to unknown direction?‬
‪holding you tightly, the wind blows.‬
‪having long conversations for hours, laughing over little things.‬
‪nights where we stayed up late‬
‪getting into stupid debates about who's right or wrong,‬
‪picking out the right song to play over and over again.‬
‪remember how we fought over stupid stuff?‬
‪and even though times get rough, we'd just laugh it all up‬
‪do you remember when we booked a venue for the whole photography class? just two of us. and that's all where things started.‬
‪in mcdonald's where the hours didn't last‬
‪and that's where it happened so fast ‬
‪creating memories that we thought would remain.‬
sixteen months are still far away from enough.

‪but then, all we created ‬
‪was pain ‬
‪and that was the last day i saw you. ‬
‪sitting in front of me, a thousand way colder than ice back then.
‪my heart clenched ‬
‪cheeks tear-drenched‬
‪my pride craving for revenge.‬
‪listen darling,‬
‪i just want you to remember ‬
‪from the beginning of us remember the long-lasting splendor ‬

‪the last moments of us being together ‬
‪because i remembered ‬
‪and dare i keep it in my heart forever‬
Questions Please
Put up a question please
Throw me a question please
Question, any question

Burning or sensational
big or small or silly
easy or tough or absurd
hypothetical or factual

All questions are invited.
Only and only questions
No Answers at all
As I already have answers

I have answers to all the questions
that ever existed, but ceased to exist today.
I have the answers to prevailing questions
that are making us crazy day by day

I even have the answers to the questions
which are still in the future's belly
waiting to be born one day
in this beautiful and **** world

Questions please
All sorts of questions
May be from geography or philosophy
Or from religion to defence studies

It may be from medical science or history
Or from space research too
Animal husbandry is no taboo
Questions on skydiving are also welcome

Politics is my all-time favourite
although I can answer sports or adventure
Questions on corruption are also solicited
You can ask on oceanography or calligraphy too

I know everything, literally everything
but neither I am 'Google' nor 'Bing'
I am not even 'Duck Duck Go'
nor I claim to be 'Baidu'

I guessed your question.
You are wondering – "Who am I?"
It's very-very simple Man!
I am a nasty spokesperson from the ruling party

I may be found mostly in television debates
as a panelist, as a debator, as a joker
as a disturbing element, as a liar
as a person making hue and cries

You may or may not like my answers,
but, please like me, please love me
Raise slogans for me, Praise me
Make me famous, make me a celebrity

But even if you dislike me
I don't care, I have my media
I have my own followers
I also own a troll army

I train them perfectly
I pay them heavily
I spend too much on
News media and Social media

I have my own trustworthy mob
who is always ready for violence
anytime and anywhere
at any cost whatsoever

Beware, I am from the ruling party
I inherit a complete readymade system
of Investigating agencies, Ready to book anyone
on false and frivolous grounds.

And it will take years to prove innocence
Innocence may be proved, may be disproved
This also depends on Money, Power and Links
Or the nasty arithmetic of alliance with us in future

So if you still chose to dislike me
It's your choice, but wait
I can still become a minister
Or even a prime minister

I have the quality to lure voters
I have the answers to all the questions
That ever existed or are existing
Or that are stilling waiting to be born.
I have all the answers  so please throw a question to me.
Palpating the empty cavernous realm of intellect and morality,
I find a restricting noose constructed of the finest strands of insecurity, but it's more proportionally comprised of self-doubt. Each fiber's soaked in a vat of social restraint, the ineffective capability of people to deny injustice. Choosing instead the intoxicating mirage that hereditary lies has handed down throughout the centuries.

Helping the constructors of irrationalism build their platform upon supports of popular opinion.
Equipping it with the ingenious trap door many a potential scholar of entropy and fatalism has fallen through. Snapped necks they suffocate on the breath of pseudo-liberty; as the French have, and Americans still do.

Hands bound behind their backs by indecision, latent anger, the belief in a system far from progressive. Where morals and codes of conduct are tempered, and deliberately shaped into devices of torture sugar coated, and worn pridefully without knowing the restrictions nor the pain, any form of progressive thought is absent. The mass majority select intellectual stagnance over the enlightening evolution of attempting to understand the human condition.

They are not to blame.
For shame and resentment are left for frugal debates over each new candidate, sheered from the same wormwood poisoning the stream of consciousness ****** by a nationalistic fervor full of flavor, no long lasting integrity, only iron clad walls of discretion and misrepresentation.

Traveling great distances, shoulders encumbered with regret, apathy, and triviality; the phantom that is a patriot has left his burden laden tracks for the next poor sap to find his way far from freedom, closer to slavery. The yoke fits loosely but unlike the bumbling oxen his purpose is indiscernable, his capacity to think of a way to escape is neutralized by the bag of oats and blinders he himself accepts; by abhorring what he’ll call disrespect and irreverence toward a slave driving body masked by the right to live fruitfully, albeit sedentary.

The joy of complacency is not holding responsibility, not feeling accountable for any choice where the dangers of rational thinking may awaken the bitter, savage realization that he is merely a by-product, a cog in a larger scheme to keep freedom a longer journey than it is according to the whip holder’s theory. The excruciating knot is pulled tightly together by hunger, so the worker satisfies this hunger with more intricately designed knots. His concentration isn’t in untying it, it’s merely compounding it with greater enigmas he’ll leave for the omniscient to decipher, and untangle.

He’ll wash his hands of the assignment and swallow what he deems nourishment, but the hole is never plugged. The hole grows and the abyss growls, the sounds of thousands of souls in constant traction, but this man of many fantasies can have no distractions. His focus remains selectively aimed upon projects the future will later ruin, yet without foresight the ambition has no name so the cycle remains the same.

His lifeless body now swings to and fro above gallows where the omnipotent applaud the writhing spirit of free will convulsing violently; gyrating while the sedated world of the executed continues being recreated to disguise the sincerest, deepest pain he’ll never know, because knowledge is will and the power struggle is one of isolation and possible destitution. So only when he wakes after his fate has been sealed will free spirit, and free will assault his no longer inebriated body, showing no mercy and reminding him of every time they tried to save him.

He’ll scream in utter agony placing his voiceless soul amongst those bellowing from the abyss he never tried to close. What’s more, choosing to ignore such an enormous expanse of nothing, makes the punishment perfectly sufficient, and succinct with every bit of skepticism he had that such a void of expression, virility, and endless suffering even existed. The twisting twine that holds this wretched, still body of reason securely above the wastelands of awareness makes the most insidious noise. It’s like rubbing famine and pestilent ridden bodies together; the crunching sound of bones absent of mass, riddled with brittle chip marks where the consciously aware soldiers of misfortune have attempted to shape spearheads of vindication, but are then left where they were found because even the potential tools of warfare are less sturdy and strong than the flesh bound mind of sterility from whence they came.

So there is nothing this heap of biological ingenuity and imagination can offer, but to swing in each gusting breeze like a sign posted “No Loitering,” “No Trespassing” would when pushed by the conglomerate gales of assembled hundreds. Ignorance prevails, those who fight are made to accept this evil mantra not out of doubt, but hope that once one awakes before his/her spirit and will has been completely removed, they’ll feel the refreshing irony of those who prayed silently that their army of insolent rewriters of justice has grown by one more.

Still breathing, within a masked struggle fought on separate planes of reality, behind curtains weaved of Kevlar, lead, and iron, many perverts of theory co-opt covertly in absolute anonymity fashioning plans: the plans of liberty, freedom, and prosperity.

They’re his only means of acquittal. Slashing the ropes and allowing those long since dead to die in peace, and those whose breath still has a bit of resistance to fight; the chance to view in full honesty and tragedy the gallows where weary travelers of theory are beaten by conviction and moral restrictions.
b e mccomb Feb 17
***
***
a word so bad
it didn’t even need
four letters

they told us
to wait for
our future husbands
to treat the boys we
dated as if they
belonged to someone else

that if we wouldn’t do it
with our parents in the room
it wasn’t okay
to do at all

that there was
some kind of higher
spirituality achieved
by celibates and singles
but of course that
couldn’t be for everyone
(as if needing human
companionship made you weak)

******* would send
you to hell and
of course the **** were
already there

that our virginity was the most
important part of ourselves
and losing it before due time
was the worst thing we could do
but all would be better
if we said we were sorry
swore never
to do it again

there were contracts
pledges, oaths
and jewelry
if you didn’t have
a ring you weren’t
doing it right

purity
virginity
words thrown around like
hand grenades into foxholes
as insurance policy against
pregnancy and stds

a barrage against the
onslaught of our culture
morality reduced to making
guys and girls sit on
different sides of the room
and debates in the mirror
over the length of skirts
and scoop of necklines

for something we weren’t
supposed to do
they sure made us think
about it an awful lot

meanwhile
back home in our own
bedrooms all the songs
on our radios and
the movies on our tvs
told us a very different story

somewhere along the line
i got so confused i
convinced myself i never
wanted *** at all
when i finally felt
desire stirring
in the pit of my stomach
it was terrifying

i thought since i
had never felt it
that made me immune
but it really just made me
in deep
deep denial

a denial that persisted
through late evenings
of exploring another
person’s body
learning to trust someone
with my own

they told us until we said
i do
there was no reason
to believe anything would last

and some nights i can’t sleep
with worrying about
some inevitable burning and
collapse of the building called us

i feel my parents’ gazes boring
right through my chest and
hope they never find out
what i’ve been doing

turtlenecks to cover the stain
of love notes on my neck
having something on
my body to hide
takes me back to being fifteen
and the judgement of strangers
a dead weight in my stomach
and sweaters past my palms

but the feeling of your lips
and hands and breath
in my ear and for a few minutes
i don’t care that tomorrow
i’ll be trying to forget
that i’m not as pure
as they once told me
i would stay

but i am no longer
in denial
only suffocating
in guilt
copyright 2/7/19 by b. e. mccomb
july hearne Jan 14
kevin was 45 and a loser

his now deceased father
had been a man of money
rather than a man of patience
for his extrovert son
who had spent the first 18 years of his life
not lifting a finger

before being kicked out at 18

once he was on his own
the years went by and soon kevin
found himself single at the age  of 45,
impatience being his only inheritence

kevin could often be found at his desk
singing his favorite gin blossoms or offspring songs

he could also be found walking around the office
at other people desks,
or back at his desk asking me how to save microsoft office documents or how to spell certain words

kevin made daily announcements:
on monday, he was a writer
on tuesday, he was a non-conformist
on wednesday, he asked me if he could write a book about rock&roll
on thursday he announced that he had to take out a personal ad;
no one had a response for that

because a week or so later he was glad to be single and have no responsibilities or commitments to anyone

i can't remember what he said on friday,
but i do know that he spent his christmas break
battling  his 6 year old nephew

once kevin confided in me he was sick of trying to improve how things were done at work. he had a lot of ideas, but no assistant
to implement them. kevin was a collections agent who called customers about past due accounts.

another time he told me he was 20K in debt
because there was this girl
and all these uber rides he had to pay for

a learned man, he had been a poly-sci major
so you could often hear him loudly bellowing in the office
about Trump and Russia and how terribly wrong it all was

i always wanted to ask kevin
if he was lone courageous dissenter in seattle
during the 2012 presidential debates
when everyone was laughing at Mitt Romney
for saying Russia was America's greatest geopolitical threat

but I never did
because kevin was the kind of guy
that everyone felt sorry for

at first.
Alyssa Gilera Feb 11
I like to think she was the right person for me
Night and day, she was the only girl I could ever see
From endless stares to her vibrant smiles
The thought of her felt so right
Though in the mix, fights and undeniable strong debates
She was still the perfect girl, the girl of my dreams
I like to think that I was the one that tames her, the one that makes her happy
But in my unconciousness, I was just holding her back.
To have thought that we were both right for each other was just a mere fantasy
Something I couldn't seem to gobble up until now in this very scene
We were both in toxicity
Yes, she was right, but not for me.

— The End —