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Marla Apr 26
Not unlike the monster for which it was named,
With debaucherous whims that divide foreign lands;
Here at the briny, gilded portal to our home now stands
A hollow woman with a torch, whose warmth
Has become faded and disheartening, and her name
Mother of Philistines. From her once guiding hand
Emerges world-wide distaste; deranged eyes ransack
The smog-filled harbor that dystopias fame.
“Keep, other lands, your progressive pomp!” shrieks she
With welded lips. “Take our tired, our poor,
Our huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of our teeming shore.
Take these, the homeless, tempest-tost from me,
Lift your lamp as a guide and take them all!”
An adaptation of "A New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus, the poem inscribed at the base of America's Statue of Liberty.
Adilson Smith Nov 2017
I would say
I love you with all my heart.

But that's not quite right.

For I love you with far much more
Than just that one part.

For instance,
I love you with my lips:
They pucker lovingly like filled balloons
Rising skyward in a knot.

I love you also
With my eyes. Like a ruly clerk,
They sieve your frame with careful affection,
Vitalized by every detail.

My ears, too, are full of love.
I can feel them during the night;
Thumping with blood
As you rise and decline
Asleep in my nook.

There are many others.
My eyebrows, so enlivened,
Agitate my face
And my toes, so excited,
Tense in my shoes
As though afraid of getting wet.

Other parts aren’t so conspicuous.
My arms plot in the dark --
They long to swim around your waist
And link us back to breast.

And my fingers, naughty things,
Scheme to tease your dress
Above your pretty knees
And above your pretty chest.

Would you believe,
Even my ****'s involved!
Though he’s more obvious
With his *****, open smile
And cheeky morning breath.

But chief of all my loving parts
Is my un-run soul
Unkenneled, at last,
Sprinting furiously
Next to yours.
# love #silly

Note -- this is very much a rewrite of Watsky's splendid and original "love poem" (worth checking out on YouTube).
c Jan 13
from a hole in the bed I crawl
from a window in my head I watch
from a sill, life in green rushes by
from a quiet air I think
myself into pounding and ringing

from the grey walls I roam
from the bus stop I dream
there’s a reality I’ve tasted before
but never savored, so
from a chalice of happy I sip myself
into stupid oblivion

from a beautiful scape I watch
the anxious sun beat color across the sky
and feel no heat

from eyes I make sense of a way home
leaving pieces as I go,
the roads paved in passing time 

from stairs I climb
room to room
and I’m here

from the pit of pity I mount the ledge
just to fall back
into bed

- c
falling into a daily routine
Sam Sep 2018
While satellites come close and leave,
whole moons and the swirling dust
of reflective obeyers,
it arrives from distance.

Running a course through weight
from a pencil-thin horizon brow,
it might have streaked across darkness.
With the dead shines behind,
washed clean in a trail of wild flame and
then fallen, bolide broken into cascade.

Or rising to collide,
only skim the surface.
Ruffle the sheets of land,
wrinkle fertile leas and parched sands.

No, to strike full and shudder
the core and extinguish
light and life.
With unswerving smite.

From underestimated range
and unmeasured haste,
a peacock tail drags far behind.
Each one diamond dolefully eyed.

Is this eccentric orbit
the only the path seen?
Fastened to your celestial belt
and looped in an endless trajectory.
ConnectHook Oct 2015
Oh Language, where hast thou hid thyself?
Thy once-bright spires decline to dust.
The calm, well-reasoned flow of wisdom
a bygone memory. I’ll not trust
these tween-to-twenty-something’s prattle;
endless babble of self-absorption
centered in pleasure-maximizing:
narcissistic thought-abortion.
Dude—they’re SO not app’ed for language
used by dad ten years ago.
I’m totally DONE with their, like, verbiage
They’re all: Smartphone Teenage Show.
It’s just, like, TALKING—without words
in language ghettos; texting proud . . .
Their lack of precision offends my brain—
They ought to be ashamed (out loud).

Vygotsky’s vaunted Z.P.D,
and Bakhtin’s heteroglossic crack
along with Roland Barthe’s pet parrot
Are SO like totally talking smack.
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/2014/03/15/hung-on-a-psychosociolinguistic-scaffold/

ZPD ZPD ZPD ZPD ZPD
Marina Nov 2017
love,
we are either in love, falling in love, or falling out of it
there are many ways to explain the term of love.
some of us are too numb to feel any of it
so we hide underneath the covers because love is in the air

if only we can see that not all love is not all bad.
i am afraid of falling in love so i hide and decline my thoughts
i rather stay to myself than to get hurt with the emotions inside me
i learned this by encountering it
i know out there id find someone
but now is like a rotten fruit next to perfect veggies
were all just little kids looking for a beautiful someone
i don't want to hurt no more
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2014
When I enter,
the black holes of myself,
they are located,
transcribed upon the
blackboards of our
unified bodies,
the magnification of energy
transversed,
principles demonstrated
by the unconcluding
conclusion of the expansion of
creation,
the rebirthing of one universe
never ending

When I enter a woman,
the discovery sought,
the definitional needed,
the proofs equational,
the factors constant,
not the variable
truths,
the demonstrations positive,
the constants of the universe,
combinational, all within,
a single point glistening

to gentle comfort this
knowledge of my wasting,
the foresight of my limitations
from the day of birth
my matter,
matters,
my energy
neither destroyed or created,
illimitable,
my decline inevitable

and yet

cannot alter my atomic structure.
my future guaranteed,
my inner light,
traveling so fast,

it has yet

to arrive

When I enter a woman,
the laws of physics
become special theories
of relativity,
we are motion in time,
force and energy
nucleotides rawest refined,
elemental and particle nuclear,
packets of light
exclaimed

When I enter a woman,
organic, chemistry,
interdisciplinary
my body and its life force
shaped as
electric current transceivers
crossing galaxies,
there can be no deceivers,
there but and only
the birthing of heat,
a byproduct of
interjection, conjunction

she is my proof
long after the
log normal of my nerves,
now parceled to the
invisible of an oscillating
log natural,
fertilizes the sea grasses
that so intoxicate,
flying, carried,
by the invisiblity of the winds,
all-where I have chosen
as my shifting shape,
when this container
leaks and crack'd,
rentery orbit,
the nearest garbage strewn
construction-dead
lot

When I enter a woman,
physics far beyond
the commonplace,
physical transition
to knowledge
of life ever after

death and fear are
time sensitized
passing notions,
crushed by the
consolation of physics,
the eternality
of a time
once begun,
cannot end,
and therefore
this,
my one theory of everything,
is the God
I worship
The phrase "the consolation of physics" was taken from a novel,
City of Thieves by David Benioff. The other nonsense is all my fault.
11/23/14 8:30am

for my blonde Big Bang theorist
Just a Man Sep 2018
Beneath a Weeping Willow
Such Vines do not Twist,
Peer Out from the Shade!
Be Freed by It's Allure
Dampening the Earth It's cast Upon

There, In Broad Day
Dancing in the Streets
Cheering for Silence
All Books and Statues
and Sons, Fair Game

Fear Them you Cannot
The Eyes Do Not Spare
Distant Figures bob,
and Sway
and Twist to knots

Could be One's Eyes
Be It the Flowing Vines
Sure of Myself, or
More-so of the Willow's
Trickling Streams,
Hung with Care
Still, yet Overflowing

No, Eyes do not Betray!
The Mind cannot Return
and still Dance
For Too the heart,
Here, Trapping Water's reign
Set to Betray It's prison


Tomorrow, The Cleanup Comes
Brothers, We'll Hear Our names
And Rise from the Mud
By Design or by decision

Echoes, Sounds in Every Room
Shall Haunt us with The Present
Declaring All the While, "Better had they never learned,
Time is a Gift,      Until it Isn't"
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
My sociopathic mistress ~
Initially she began contacting me over the course of a year or so and increasingly over the last few months she started visiting me, helping me, caring for me and occasionally employing me in different ways.

She’d just had a break up a few weeks before, explaining that things hadn’t been right in the relationship for some time!

She presents herself as respectful, thoughtful, gentle, kind and considerate and after what seemed to be a very short length of time; unexpectedly declared that she had feelings for me; regarding love, admiration, desire and some other adventures.

She then began to bombarded me with love talk; occupying around 70% of my time gaining my trust, I was swept off my feet; as she took a great deal of interest in me, learning everything about me, what I liked, where I would go, always asking what I was thinking feeling, how she could help and I was flattered and she was charming, though a little awkward at times.

As our friendship grew she started sharing her "back story" ~including some tragic life experiences; she vilified her past lovers, and ex-partners and branded them as crazy or bitter liars and troubled souls; gaining my sympathy, whilst securing my allegiance, and keeping me on side; keeping me close. ~ drawing on my compassion loyalty & trust!

During intimate moments she would sometimes seem a little awkward, false or acting a little insincere and I made allowances for this given my knowledge of her backstory. Re~ (The tragic life events & experiences)

She began to chose and buy me clothes outfits, take me shopping gradually altering my outward image and appearance.

She introduced me to her friends but was careful to keep me and them at arms-length, I realise now that she was building an alternative profile of me in their minds.

She soon started to embroil me in her own rituals and compulsive behaviour’s, explaining that tasks needed to be performing in very specific ways to prevent her getting distressed!

She made many promises :
"The hook"
It was my expectation i.e. waiting for some of those promises to materialise that kept me hanging on; This increased her control and exited her too. (None of her promises came to fruition!)

She gradually had a hand in almost every aspect of my life i.e. my home, my work, my friends, family, my finances, the way i dressed, the food i ate and many other things besides, much of which I didn’t realise until our relationship was finally over.

“Dupers delight!” ~ She often took immense pleasure in duping, individuals or a companies out of something through theft, shoplifting, or getting something for nothing, a profiteer, a chancer!
To question or challenge her authority would result in seeing her façade slip and watch her decline into meltdown.
It's at that point, she would lose composure and I would see her irrationality come to the fore revealing the real person underneath ~ childish, contrived and fragile ~ It’s as if control is the glue that holds her together, without it she just falls apart , she can’t be consoled and it’s impossible to calm this situation.
It’s at this point that she would attempt to regain control by “Gas lighting” me, she would distort the truth in an attempt to damage my self-esteem, to make me question my own mind, my intetion and any actions , apportioning blame, pointing fingers making me feel guilty, or using hurt, sorrow, shame or *** to pacify or regain control over me and my actions.

These episodes would appear often though irregular and I would always be deemed at fault! ~ She “never” took responsibility or made any apologies for her conduct; she would also go out a lot and lie or bend the truth as to where she had been; I never challenged this behaviour!

When the relationship was finally deemed over! ~
I began to see my new position in the cycle ~ she immediately begin to vilify me in order to give credence to her “New backstory”, I felt very confused, disorientated and emotionally fraught ~“Shell shocked” questioning, how much of our relationship was true and how much was a lie? For everything I thought I knew was now knitted together with a very complex web of loyalties, lies and half-truths.

Her pattern of repetitive and controlling behaviours have seemingly remained unchanging thoughout all her relationships!

Within two weeks of being apart she told me that she had fallen in love (My replacement) someone she’d had her eye on for some time, some-one she admires, someone kept in the background, a friend a mutual acquaintance, and thanked me for bringing them together.
The grooming of her new lover would have come about in exactly the same way as previously described. It's her "MO"!
(Her pattern of behaviours, her techniques are fixed.)

Her parting statement to me was ~ just a playful stab at my heart; in the hope of provoking a negative response which would then serve to validate her new "back story".

She’s incredibly self-conscious, her biggest fear is that other people will find out about her true demeanour, her image and appearance is everything to her.
(She's afraid that people will shun her for being so very different)

Full circle~
I too must join the ranks of the discredited; labelled a liar, troubled, bitter and crazy.

She then secretly contacted my friends, family, fellow musicians.

I suspect that she may even attempt to vilify me with authorities or threaten some form of legal action as she has to others in the past!

I'm still drawn to her despite my knowledge of her sociopathic nature, and all the things that go with it ~ her constant need for attention, her lies, her infidelity and her deceit and I feel no malice towards her.
I'm still intrigued  bewitched by the person hiding underneath the façade!
I know that person is far more interesting, beguiling and attractive than the façade!

Now the dust has settled ~
I’ve somehow remained sound of mind, I don’t feel guilty and I’m aware that I’ve been manipulated into thinking and acting in ways that don’t truly represent my character and that I’m just one of many people seduced by a sociopath! ~ Just another natural human variant , a person devoid of true empathy (for others) and that has developed a narrow set of skills and mirroring behaviours, which allow her to blend into mainstream society in order to feel safe, secure and in control!

She would have preferred to add me to the hareem a bank of beguiled individuals that are occasionally called upon,; kept on the back burner in order for her to use in the future or simply to monitor and re-assess her handwork.

The last time i saw her she began with nervous politeness and finished with veiled cruelty, I left this experience feeling drained, uncomfortable and quite fazed.

I hoped this incite would help myself and others to understand whats transpired once they're hooked; though i'm sure the next person will ignore any pre-warnings as just ramblings.

Individuals are driven by the natural pursuit of love, *** and romance rather than following advice of seemingly bitter ex...

One reason you and I might attract the attention of a sociopath is because we shine like stars !
Stars are both attractive and enhance the image and status of the people around them.

A  sociopath will orbit a shiny star draining its energy until its a done before slingshoting to a larger more attractive orbit!
*** is simply a tool for manipulation or pleasure;
There is no love or empathy only stepping stones!

Good luck brothers & sisters and expect high drama!
She loves to watch you *** unstuck!
Paul Hansford Jul 2016
Gloriously green in spring and summer, these leaves
turned to bright shades of flame, lit up the fall,
and autumn's winds tumbled them to earth.

Decaying, their remnants now enrich the earth,
and winter buds fatten for next year's leaves,
which in their turn, we know, will wither and fall,

an endless cycle of growth, decline and fall.
We too decline, return at last to earth,
and memory is all our existence leaves

until we rise in new leaves, and fall again to earth.
A tritina is a sort of "sestina lite", where there are only three repeating words instead of six, and all three appear in the last single line.  The theme of this one is something of a preoccupation of mine.
Robert Ronnow Apr 2018
What a city I murmur to myself looking at its map.
We approached the city known as Dis,
with its vast army and its burdened citizens.
At last we reached the moats
dug deep around the dismal city.
What destroys the poetry of a city?
Automobiles destroy it,
and they destroy more than the poetry.
Dante and Virgil chased by 7 or 8 dangerous devils
Grumpy, Happy, Sneezy, Sleepy, ***** . . .
Our heroes reduced from metaphysical philosophers
interested in god and what man has done to man
to improvising primitive tools for survival.
Hope abandoned, we rate our chances of expiring
in the nuclear fire – excellent –
during the decline of western civilization.

On the other hand, I hope
our current problems are only temporary
and it’s just a matter of time until
the public learns to ignore the 24-hour news cycle.
Bad news sells but the good life’s all around us.
One feels love and devotion
even for the 60 million who voted for our opponent.
Vaclav Havel said with a wisdom well beyond brilliance:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul, and it’s not dependent
on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart
that transcends the world as it’s immediately experienced.
It is not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
no matter how it turns out.”

It resembles grief. But it's not quite grief. I'll give you grief.
Certain days planned to be eventful I look forward to for weeks.
Let the peaceful transfer of power proceed. The sorrow and the pity.
Never may the anarchic man find rest at my hearth.
When the laws are kept, how proudly the city stands!
When the laws are broken, what of the city then?
We are moving through some allegory between a City of Hope,
where history has been abolished, and a City of History,
where hope can be slipped in only as contraband.
Failing to achieve understanding, we're searching
outer space for an entity to unite us as humanity.
That person, or city, is consciousness.
Two ancient female poets are a revelation,
the clarity of their complaints: lost lover, lost city.
Our enemy eventually becomes our brother,
his misery lifted by coming to her city.
www.ronnowpoetry.com

--Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy, The Inferno, Canto VIII, Italian, trans. Robert Hollander & Jean Hollander, Anchor Books, 2000.
--Ferlinghetti, Lawrence, Poetry Flash, November 1998
--Havel, Vaclav, Disturbing the Peace: A Conversation with Karel Huizdala, Vintage Books, 1991.
--Iyer, Pico, The Man Within My Head, Vintage Books, 2013
--Sophocles, Antigone, Greek, trans. Dudley Fitts & Robert Fitzgerald from The Oedipus Cycle: An English Version, Harcourt Brace & Co., 1939.
Poetoftheway Aug 2014
"Son can you play me a memory
I'm not really sure how it goes
But it's sad and it's sweet
And I knew it complete
When I wore a younger man's clothes"

Billy Joel lyrics from
"Piano Man"*
~~~~~~~~~~~~

when I was very young
I wore Levi jeans and white
Hanes cotton T shirts
my mother bot me,
my feet, Ked clad, red
from the kid's "department" store
on Central Avenue,
the Main Street of my small town

when I was a young lad,
I wore workingman's cargo jeans and
white Hanes cotton T shirts
under red plaid
wooly shirts, itchy affairs,
that I bot for myself
in a real Army Navy store,
desert colored suede boots,
laced up high,
upon my feet

when I was of middling years,
my jeans were khaki pants,
Gap supplied,
and my Gap T shirts,
faded like me,
a non-descript color,
made in a gap of pale pastel colors
from Bangladesh or Vietnam,
pale pastel, like me

so as I slide~decline into
my nursing home years,
I wear unbranded jeans and
white cotton no name T shirts
with matching white disposable slippers,
that the Purchasing Department
bot for me, cause they know,
I like,

a younger man's clothes and
the memories that play all day
lost in day dreaming of a life
well dressed

2:01am
I wish to leave this place,
If only in mind,
The same way I save my self,
The same way I decline.
Steve Page Oct 2017
Step up to the mic and strike first with a smile of one liners, with observations or tales that beguile them.
For a smile will disable them while your lines slide in behind them, almost whispering, selecting the sharp-soft phrases that will best penetrate those guarded places. Looking with innocence into their faces, turning minds stage by stages, persuading with insights, with stories of real life, with familiar tales of familiar strife. Then when you follow through and strike with the punch line they have no defence and have no time to decline the good sense found in this food for thought, laughing to a sudden realised stop, looking again at their lives, with a furtive smile of dawning delight at the shed light on shared lives found in your soft amplified lines.
- Do it right when you step up to the mic and you just might change lives.
With thanks to Poetical Word, Hounslow London for open mic nights.
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