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judy smith Oct 2015
He's accosted Kim Kardashian, Brad Pritt and Ciara, but red carpet prankster Vitalii Sediuk tried his luck with a much fiercer face on Tuesday.

The Ukrainian journalist approached US Vogue editor, Anna Wintour, outside the Chanel show at Paris Fashion Week.

Wearing a black headdress and glittery sequinned glove, Vitalli broke through the security barriers and ran up to the notoriously icy journalist as she exited the show.

With a microphone in his hand, Vitalli could be seen attempting to get her attention - but nonchalant Anna kept her cool and dismissed the prankster, striding straight past him.

Anna's security stepped in immediately and removed the prankster, who made a peace sign with his hand.

Anna is by no means the first star that Vitalli has pranked.

He famously targetted Kim Kardashian in September last year in the huge crowd that gathered around Kim and her husband Kanye's car as they arrived at the Balmain show at Paris Fashion Week, in which her sister Kendall Jenner was walking.

In bizarre scenes, Vitalii - the prankster who accosted Brad Pitt at the Maleficent premiere in Los Angeles earlier last year - was reported to have pulled Kim's hair [which he denies] and almost knocked the then 33-year-old starlet to the ground, in front of Kanye and her mother Kris Jenner.

Security quickly jumped in and escorted a shocked Kim into the building.

This was just one of the many times the former journalist has had run-ins with celebrities including America Ferrera, Leonardo DiCaprio and Jennifer Lopez.

Brad Pitt recently spoke out about the infamous run in with the now-notorious Sediuk at the Malificent premiere in Hollywood in late May.

The movie hunk said he was forced to defend himself after the Ukrainian television personality tried to 'bury his face in my crotch.'

Brad said he was having a great time mingling with fans on the red carpet, but things soon turned nasty when Sediuk sparked a melee that left the heartthrob with broken sunglasses.

He told People: 'I was at the end of the line signing autographs, when out the corner of my eye I saw someone stage-diving over the barrier at me.

'I took a step back; this guy had latched onto my lapels. I looked down and the ****** was trying to bury his face in my crotch, so I cracked him twice in the back of the head – not too hard – but enough to get his attention, because he did let go.

'I think he was then just grabbing for a hand hold because the guys were on him, and he reached up and caught my glasses.'

The Moneyball star said he likes people to have fun, but argued Sediuk's antics could end up spoiling glamorous Hollywood events for everyone else.

He said: 'I don’t mind an exhibitionist but if this guy keeps it up he’s going to spoil it for the fans who have waited up all night for an autograph or a selfie, because it will make people more wary to approach a crowd. And he should know, if he tries to look up a woman’s dress again, he’s going to get stomped.'

Sediuk was sentenced to 30 days in jail after attacking Brad at the Los Angeles premiere of Maleficent.

He was already on probation for jumping on stage with Jennifer Lopez when he jumped over a crowd barrier at the opening of Angelina Jolie's new film Maleficient and struck Brad

He was charged with assault, battery, unlawful activity at an exhibition and delay of an exhibition, received the jail sentence plus 20 days community labor, 36 months probation and a $220 fine.

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Coop Lee Nov 2015
even teddy said i got the sickest tricks brah.
like my abilities source from some kinda legendary liquid
                                                                ­                      / praise the lord /
monster energy should sponsor me.
a kickflip over the king’s *** hole
& a halfcab for the looky-loos.
i feel so tall when i climb that heap of asphalt trimmings
& see clear from the water tower to the bluffs.
gimme a good day, any day at the bluffs,
bottlerockets & girly birds.

her body brings a swarm of worms.
decomp,
said the f.b.i. men one by one with tweezers.
not quite the homecoming queen, still
wrapped in plastic.

look up.
see that great mess of wires, nest of powerlines and owl bones?
it crackles and croons its electro-spectral purr
all night and day.

new neck tat &
cody spends his paycheck on a crossbow.
we target practice on a bull skull.
wet cigarettes and turpentine-soaked socks for a good huff
in the dry of the roofline as it dumps.

there’s that little boy in a ghost mask again, tap-dancing
in puddles below the streetlamp,
& oversized shoes.
his grandmoms always be watchin’ from the window.
[whispers] she’s teaching him magic.

lucky unit 19: where our young dead damsel once dolled
herself up, you see
men and headlights would roll thru thrice nightly,
maybe more.
& i remember her punch red lips &
big whicker hat; while she weeded and watered her garden of begonias.

the sheriff’s deputy, hart? hicks? hogan? well he loved her a bunch.
stole her clothes in the middle of the night,
& sat beside the river sobbing into clumped fists
of bra and blouse.
i bought ******* from that guy once or twice.
harold? howard?

guess who showed his face today?
josiah, from unit 08.
since the incident with molly’s beagle, he’s been rarely seen.
took a bee line straight for the mailbox.
a package. a prize. a decoder ring/secret map sweepstakes
to be seen and deciphered.
Jon Tobias Sep 2011
This is super secret loving
Like when my foot accidentally touches yours over coffee
I ask if you want to play footsies
And then move my foot away to make sure
The whole thing isn’t weird
And you tell me I don’t have to move my foot
So I then rub my leg against yours
Like a one legged cricket who’s sure
He’s found the set that plays his song
Only your face turns red
And the song doesn’t play

I look to my super secret decoder
Mood ring that tells me what you’re feeling
Only if I can touch you long enough for it to change colors
So I hold your hand like a zipper
And you shake mine away like a stove linger
I half expect you to **** your finger like a cigarette burn
The ring looks like antifreeze
Caught in the glare of sunlight
With no definite answer
And I don’t know what to think

This is super secret heartbreak
As I apologize
Even though I was being myself
Like a man who never knew a mirror
Like a boy
Who wanted to say something like
You smell really good
I know I should have learned
To keep my hands
And feet to myself by now

But this is super secret loving
And the storm swirling in my super secret decoder mood ring
Is fading to green like envy
And now blue

Super secretly
I say
Let’s try this again
As you stand up to leave
After reading a text message
About how your dog died

Super secretly
I say
stay
CoffeeInfused Mar 2015
Adulthood's hour has come to call
Childhood's time has lost its thrall
The clock chimes now, a tolling bell
Marking the passing with every knell

No more games, no time to play
For fragile youth's long gone astray
No hobby horses or decoder rings
The time has passed for simpler things

Leave your toys to gather dust
Leave the playground alone to rust
Be one of us, the time is nigh
So hurry now, and say goodbye

To innocence and naïveté
Leave your hope out in the street
Put away your childish things
Here we have no use for dreams

Imagination's a liability
That clings with fervent tenacity
Put it away with your childish things
Here we have no use for dreams,
Here we have no use for dreams.
Jeremy Betts Nov 2023
I'm not the only me I see when I see me looking back at me
Bewildered by the impossibility of a blind visionary with the foresight to look past me to find me
I got caught staring so intently I lost sight of the true me completely
You see such savagery and think it must have been nurtured from infancy
While true, I had it in check, hidden away in the captivity of a long forgotten memory
But it still remembered me, waited patiently, predicting my return with a whimsical accuracy
It heard me frantically trying to find the glass to break in case of emergency
Not to set it free but to once again embrace what was scary, what might be the reality of the actual me
Instantly I handed over the key, didn't even keep a copy for me
Knowing exactly what I was doing and what it'd do to me mentally
It was always going to happen this way eventually
Finding solace in it's monotony, no more uncertainty
Both wake up and go to bed with the same angry energy
Done with the pleasantry and all the pageantry projected outwardly to seem more neighborly
Just so the world could be more comfortable with me when I pass through their snooty, gated community
While it pays no mind to what's being done to my psyche
This self destructive entity wasn't only the part of my reality I was told to bury
It is the entirety of my history, sad and happy, comedy and tragedy
I was it and it was me, the merger went so smoothly I believed it was absolutely meant to be, probably
Fighting myself got messy and wasn't necessarily a necessity
In the end there was no surprise who's hand was raised in victory
I already knew the part of me that held superiority but everyone else said it'd turn out differently
Like they got some kind of decoder key
Of course it didn't and they don't, thankfully I was welcomed back too once again become my own worst enemy
It ain't good company but I personally accept that personality and it's starting to warm up to me finally
It's been a strange journey, be thankful I didn't ask you to join me

©2023
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Brent Kincaid Feb 2016
I want to go back
To Crackerjacks
And KoolAid on ice.
Ice cream sandwiches
And Chick O Stick candy.
That would be so nice.
Double feature matinees
At the local movie show
With cartoons in between.
Car crashes and then the
Cliff hanger serials
Were the best we’d ever seen.

Things like snow days, and
Skinny dipping swimming holes
Great on hot summer days.
And matchbook motors
On the spokes of our bikes
After school every day.
Snow cones and soda pop
Then we turned in the bottles
For two pennies to by sweets.
Snowball forts in the winter time
That were serious business
On every neighborhood street.

Things were so simple then
We each had a list of what
We wanted Santa to bring.
Some wanted ritzy stuff
And others only wanted
A **** Tracy decoder ring.
Life was almost all about
Going to school and then
Waiting for classes to let out.
And though there are joys
For grown girls and boys
It felt good to run and shout!
Mikel May 2017
For the woman who knows me more than anyone
The decoder of my unpredictable personality
The person who can give me my needs even before I ask
I never heard you tell me that you love me
But I'm sure that you do
It was obvious in the way you care for our family
We have been through a lot
And that really means a lot
Sorry if my way of loving you sometimes displeases you
In all my pursuits I made countless mistakes
You seem disappointed
The truth is you just want me to be somebody
Somebody that can get the best out of life
Don't worry Mommy loving you is
Experiencing the best this life can give
You are the channel of God's unconditional love
Yes you're not perfect so am I
But your motherly love is the one that connects us
Accepting your dear son not just a part but a whole
Not just the good but even the worst
Yes, I'm a Mama's Boy and so be it!
Bruised Orange Oct 2011
it'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget*


we sit and talk
art and beauty, love and fear
my heart cracking open,
and you, rushing in.

we sit and talk,
play at the deadly game
ignore the consequences
shun the inconsistencies.
the words, words, words
they swirl,
and we slip, we slip, we slip

--its a real cliffhanger

hearts on sleeves
music weaves
stories come to light

secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot

we sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through
fields of daffodils
under dark skies
with rainbows.

(scene change now)

in dark of night
i squeeze out hope
from my heart.
god ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side, leaves
me bleeding on the floor.

and you, fool you are
rush to my aid.

if you're saving me,
who's saving you?

you with your secret
decoder ring from your
box of caramel corn.
cracking my heart,
you peel my layers.

your questions run deep
but your feet will run faster,
and i'll fall, i'll fall, i'll fall.

gravity's a real drag,
i've felt it's pull before.

me with my third eye
see the pan and play.
this show will end
leaving us all sitting
in our seats wanting
another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.
this ain't Disney.

we'll feel like we've been
ripped, ripped, ripped

no refunds here,
go file your complaint
with the man upstairs.

the audience stands,
turns to go.

white elephants know there's
no silver lining, no *** of gold.
they threw popcorn at the screen
but you didn't notice.

i always hated white elephants;
i thought you did too.
who invited them to the show?

we step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause

this hail falls down
on a sunny blue day.
afraid to touch you, but

i want to catch you in my mouth.

would you please
just go away
before i end up with lumps
on my head, in my throat?

my eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail, this ill fated show


--bruised orange
Jasmyn 'Ladi J' Sep 2013
"Your heart is a place that hides how you feel
But it can be hard to express how you feel
Your mind can erase what your heart feels
I jus want love from you
All I want is for somebody to walk up behind me
I want somebody to walk up behind me
And kiss me on my neck and breathe on my neck "
I want you to trust me w/ ur heart
Not only love me physically mentally and spiritually
Love me from behind so hard it's imprinted in the forefront of my mind
You say you got love for me but I wanna feel it...hear it...be it
Encompassed in a warp of me and you
Grant me the opportunity to pay off the debt I feel I owe you
See I mindlessly pay to stare at you
Even when I'm not around you I stare at the memories I have of you
No decoder to this mental vault
I know the code
Common realities of time spent w/ you
Moving towards life long memories
I want you to trust me w/ your heart
Hold it in my hands....gently caress it
No cutting it with an eyetooth
Standing in a booth pronouncing "Hey you...Im in love w/ you!"
Hopefully one day I'll be able to say it
But it gets caught in the back of my tongue as the words form cuz I don't wanna be rejected...
Reflected off a thought of the worst
Cuz I jus don't understand why you won't tell me how you feel
I mean s**t jus say it cuz these thoughts I have are beating so ******* my brain like a bass drum
Giving lyrics like...
"I want somebody to walk up behind me and kiss me in my neck and breath on my neck"
Giving lyrics as long as a ******' rap sheet
Oh and it's explicit up here so please don't let your children in
I just want to walk freely along a market and pick up your emotions
Read the nutritional content
I just want to go on a shopping spree with your being
Everything is up for grabs cuz you trust me
So jus endow my eardrums w/ what I know is there
Help me understand
Help my comprehension cuz I'm starting to get apprehensive
Sensitive about my ish...
All I want is for you to trust me w/ your heart
Don't be afraid to be loved cuz that's all I wanna do
You are my friend... my confidant
Closing the door to your past seems to be your problem when all I wanna do is close it and open up a new one
I know it's hard cuz it's hard for me too
But it's harder for me to continue like this
Hey I must be a *******....
Catrina Sparrow Nov 2012
at birth, they tried to swap the stars in my eyes for dollar signs-
but the operation didn't take.
so for years, i felt oddly compelled to fake it
until i finally couldn't take it any longer.
keep all your shiny, broken things...
i just want the trees.
and a breeze,
and the pebbles,
and the rain.
i'll stick around to love all of the beauty you've forsaken.
i just want the things that no one can keep.
an intellectual alien,
trapped in a generation bringing nothing
but plastic beads and decoder rings to the table.
faint, fickle beings,
painting their faces
so that they can all look just the same.
sometimes it's a blessing to feel out of place.
so, i'll wisely spend my time stuck under a bad sign,
and continue building things that can't be touched,
and treasuring things that can't be held-
just felt.
i wanna feel it all.
i want to fall madly in love,
make masterpieces of my memories,
and hopefully,
turn other peoples memories of me
into one of the most beautiful things they've ever seen.
i'm going to be good,
and kind,
and light,
and keep my fingers crossed that others i encounter
will finally decide to let go,
and enjoy the ride.
to surf the tide
rather than struggle and squirm in the waves.
what gorgeous creatures we would be
if we could finally see
just how hideously we treat other beings.
stop thinking about "ME",
and start worrying about "WE".
because we,
as a whole,
are in some serious ******* trouble.
so please, stop.
stop running, start dancing.
stop screaming, start laughing.
and please,
for the sake of all existence,
stop buying in to all of this *******.
life is not an endless quest to acquire the most over-priced garbage,
it's a journey through time and space to make yourself,
to love all that surrounds you,
and to learn to value yourself more than you value your brand new pair of perky ****.
we weren't sculpted of plastic and silicone,
we were forged of raw stardust.
it's time that we rise to the occasion of being bodies of light,
and make the darkness of night seem at least a little less lonely.
"the things you own end up owning you",
and i refuse to be enslaved.
i long for the days when free-thinkers were the cream of the crop,
now, they're lining up the firing squad
to mock and gawk at those too brave to "baa" with the rest of the flock.
Brent Kincaid May 2016
Go outside after breakfast
Come back for lunch at noon.
Come inside at suppertime
And even then, it was too soon.
Never permitted to be late
We ate dinner at six each day
Eat every bite on our plate.
About the menu we had no say.

We had baking soda submarines
Popular Mechanics magazines
And that was technology back then.
Decoder rings and roller skate keys
Shooting marbles on our knees
And playing crooks and G-men.

Those days we had three channels
On all black and white televisions.
Just the same thirteen inch boxes;
Nothing like 3D or Panavision.
Loved Uncle Miltie and Lucille Ball
And considered Korla Pandit a waste,
But we must be forgiven because
Back then, no one had much taste.

We could spell Kula, Fran and Ollie,
Said words like “gosh”, and “by golly”
And were anxious to see flying cars.
Many movies were in Technicolor
But you always had to take your brother
And he didn’t recognize the stars.

After school we played sandlot ball
Saturday were TV cartoon shows;
Dancing trees with belly buttons
And a local clown with a red nose.
We joined Cubs and Boy Scouts
Had lemonade stands by the street,
Matchbooks in bicycle stokes
And used bottle cap taps for our feet.

It seemed like days were longer then
And summer was slow to come again.
Those were the days when we had fun.
We built our forts and hooked up swings
Kids did all crazy kinds of things
Before these modern times had begun.
H C = C = O
...2
Ethenone.
Formal term for Ketene.
a Colorless gas at Standard Temperature &Pressure; with a sharp irritating odour,
Not much far closer,
from our love, meaningless at Social Technical Policy, boring like an unpaid decoder.
•• ••
O = C = O CO2
•• ••
I was wrong to would've apprehended of Hour Love as carbon dioxide ,
Naturally occuring in time, with two double bonded souls to a single heart.
S = <3 = S , in a lovical formular,
Soul = Heart = Soul.

Or did we undergo Mitosis?
Where we were processed and divided into a sequence of four phases..
Prophase our love appeared tenacious,
Metaphase we lined up portraying our sentiments in the middle of the terrestrial sphere
**** Walther Flemming for creating
Anaphase because that's when we split up
And Telophase made **** sure that we are sealed in different new terra firms

H ...H
...\ /
....O
H ...O - Water
...2
We were like
Water and Oxygen,
Without each other nothing was possible,
because without water we could die.

I Thought Love Was Science,
I think I was Right.
Bruised Orange Mar 2015
'It'll get bad reviews, we should scrap the project before it breaks the budget.'*


We sit and talk art and beauty, love and fear,
my heart cracking open, and you,
rushing in.

We sit and talk,
play at this deadly game,
ignore the consequences,
shun the inconsistencies. The

words,
words,
words,
they swirl,
and
we slip,
we slip,
we slip.

It's a real cliffhanger.

Hearts on sleeves,
music weaves,
stories come to light.

Secrets, oozing out between
the well crafted lines of
our carefully scripted plot.

We sit and talk circles around
the herds of white elephants
that come to watch the show.
Mocking us, they laugh
as we tiptoe through fields of daffodils
under dark skies with rainbows.

(Scene change now)

In dark of night
I squeeze out hope
from my heart.
God ****** hope
twists up and knifes
me in the side,
leaves me bleeding on the floor.

And you,  fool you are,
rush to my aid.
If you're saving me,
who's saving you?

You, with your secret decoder ring
from your box of caramel corn, cracking
my heart, you peel my layers.

Your questions run deep but your feet will run faster, and

I'll fall,
I'll fall,
I'll fall.

Gravity's a real drag;
I've felt it's pull before.

Me, with my third eye see the pan and play.
This show will end leaving us all sitting in our seats
wanting another thirty minutes,
a tidier ending.

This ain't Disney.

We'll feel like we've been
ripped,
ripped,
ripped.

No refunds here,
go file your complaint with the man upstairs.

The audience stands, turns to go.

White elephants know there's no silver lining,
no *** of gold.
They threw popcorn at the screen, but you didn't notice.

I always hated white elephants;
I thought you did too.
Who invited them to the show?

We step outside,
no curtain call,
no applause.

Hail falls down on this sunny blue day.

Afraid to touch you, but
I want to catch you in my mouth.

Would you please just go away,
before I end up with lumps
on my head,
in my throat?

My eyes blinded by the sun,
the hail,
this ill fated show.

Pamela A Moffatt Apr 2017
Without my ******* Jack secret
decoder ring I am lost
when I see a periodic table

I want to read left to right
for sense not status so
Nitrogen plus Oxygen means “No”

Phosphorus plus Sulfur makes “P.S.”
Lithium plus Beryllium spells “Likable Bear”
and so forth

Abbreviations of elements
that form the world I inhabit
appear disguised as aliens

their images blur from solid
to sinuous liquid
then gaseous vapor

as my eyes glaze
over into white noise
switch cognition channels

to resolve the mystery
contain the strangeness
in a familiar form

my numb brain grows a snout
starts poking around
like an old hound dog

snuffling autumn leaves
to decipher the scent of calculus
when the jonquils of high school algebra

have long since fallen
and confused summer yellows
with dew wrapped plums

quiet in dappled shade
plump and smooth
glistening soft

with promise
on a blue checked cloth
upon a worn oak table





(c) 2017-04-06
Jeremy Betts May 2022
(song)

Lord forgive me for I know what I do but forgot or was never taught how to change
I've called on your name many times but always had to leave a message, all my life you've simply been out of range
The spotlight is on and all I ever see is your seats vacancy when I look out into the crowd from the stage
Even though I know that chair will never fill I'm disappointed every time, even still at my age
Actions speak louder than words but you must be frozen in silence, feel like an abandoned fight dog chained to a cage
Incased in mange, engulfed by the plague that is you, unrecognizable, who I've become is hard to gage
Sad and lonely, afraid and angry, I cover it all with the only two things you ever gave me, questions and a replacement of blind faith, a blind rage
My very being spills out as ink on the page, page after page after page after page

It ain't just me, look close and see that most your people are lost too but that doesn't seem to be a loss to you
Looks like it doesn't even bother you, indifferent even to those who look up to you
Could care less if your carelessness caused you to lose a few
Well aware the earth is a godless venue, how dare you demand we follow you when you've no plan to follow thru

Since you're hard of hearing apparently let me share a literary entry or three from my diary
Its an open book, entry requires no key though some pages have been savagely pulled, I'm sure you saw me bury a few in the cemetery
What remains are snippets of my memory that clearly show you've been side by side with me on the daily
Obviously that's sarcasm, you'll never see another set of foot prints anywhere near me, this wounded animal is on a lonely journey
And I don't think you abandon me, that would imply that at some point you were actually a father figure at any time in my history
Never seeing eye to eye, you're always a mystery, these mysterious ways of yours never get applied to me or I wasn't supplied the decoder key
And if you have had a hand in my trajectory, if you formed my destiny that just means you were the good, the bad and the ugly respectfully
I humbly come to thé only to learn a lesson in humility as I'm ignored repeatedly no matter the clarity of my sincerity

It ain't just me, look close and see that most your people are lost too but that doesn't seem to be a loss to you
Looks like it doesn't even bother you, indifferent to even those who look up to you
Could care less if your carelessness caused you to lose a few
Well aware the earth is a godless venue, how dare you demand we follow you when you've no plan to follow thru

Beam me up Scotty because I need a face to face conversation, I want to see your reaction to my devastation in person
You have a reputation of making light of a serious situation, who's the next poor victim your hand of vengeance gonna land on?
Why take a shot at creation if you're just gonna fade into oblivion the moment you're challenged by the simplest question
This can't be your vision for me, or can it be? Do you enjoy watching us drown in misery, ****, probably but whats the reason?
You're supposed to never give us more than we can actually handle but I've been at maximum capacity since infancy, more added with every change of the season
I know it's somewhat of a tradition to **** on those who don't listen, follow direction or simply weren't paying close enough attention to decipher the complexion of the lesson
God forbid you take action or show compassion, if off the beaten path by even a meer fraction it's eternal damnation
You went out for milk with no intention of returning, I'm left waiting at an abandoned train station
I think you have a **** personality, I hope you take that personally, if I was your son I'd be calling on CPS to send someone to do an investigation

It ain't just me, look close and see that most your people are lost too but that doesn't seem to be a loss to you
Looks like it doesn't even bother you, indifferent to even those who look up to you
Could care less if your carelessness caused you to lose a few
Well aware the earth is a godless venue, how dare you demand we follow you when you've no plan to follow thru

Just show yourself and the rumors done, you're the one, all the evil I thought you spun could be undone
It's looking like you do this for fun, showing me the best spot on my cranium to position the gun
Fully loaded but only needing one and even before I squeeze I watched you turn your back and disappear over the horizon
Looking up to you is as harmful as looking directly at the sun, but blind faith is your expectation
When it comes to you I was a loser before I even begun, who can ever say they actually won?
In my opinion, no one, winning isn't an option when the opposition draws inspiration from a place of a self fulfilling Armageddon
Confession is self incrimination, life is incarceration and death a forgone conclusion
It's what comes after that we are left in the dark on and you care so little you let that carry on

©2022
Stephanie Mar 2019
he is an encrypted cipher
that no one succeeds to decrypt
except I, his devoted decoder,
will lovingly write his untold poetry;
let it be spoken, not in words,
but in the bits of his codes..
01010011 01000101 01000101 01011001 01001111 01010101 01010011 01001111 01001111 01001110
Tears drawing from the unseen in-between intervene
And something that is still growing just another wing
To pains happiness false advertising and material diving
Into the minds of weak people weak people looking at evil
Live is evil backwards think about it it's nothing but ****
In the deepest pits we see well grounded ****
Everything labelled counterfeit tik this and tok that
Look for the clown who has the gat where is he at?
He's on every corner every street loves to come when it's heat
Tension rising pass a birds eye only to make more stys why?
Have we forgotten what love is ? Or is it a new gig or a biz?
Kids having kids phones get more service that interacting
With each other social media has exploit one another
More fights are held with words than with fist I dismiss
The bs at once let give social toxicity a dunce cap relapse
Let the energy die down so we can see what's all around
Hickory dickory dock what's next on the vids of TikTok
Small video for a promo maybe make some deniro?
Or is it a cyber surveillance posing as a locator intelligence
Or it it a deat decoder waiting for another body in ambulance
Autotunes are ruining everything can't speak to humans any more
Nope not even only robots and automated ******  
More kids being driven by fear pain guilt & broken wills
Rather than being driven by energy grit guts and glory
Not your average story coronavirus is just the tip of the iceberg
Virtual reality replacing humanity maybe Judge Dredd was right
It's all hidden in plain sight the true is at its deepest roots
Wake up sleepers wake up we've got work to do let's end this blue
Julian Delia May 2019
Brain-powered brutes; kings of intellectual pursuits,
Vastly superior, sadly divorced from our roots.
Propelled to be upheld as the peak of all life;
The human species, as sharp as a corsair’s knife.

There’s about 80 billion neurons in your noggin,
Networks, working all day until you lie in a coffin.
Brain and spine; co-ordination, perfection, divine.
Plainly sublime, an observation of gifts we’re assigned.

Whether it’s seeing a sunset in the arms of your new love,
Or hearing thunder as it claps from heavens above;
Whether it’s embracing a friend you haven’t seen for too long,
Or smelling and tasting street food, lost in a throng;
It’s all assembled in your organic computer,
Your decoder of reality, your trouble-shooter.

That’s precisely why I don’t trust the brain blindly.
Despite its marvels, we can be deceived, wildly,
In a manner that is grotesque and unsightly.
Use your senses, but administer them wisely,
Live in reflective harmony, speak forthrightly.

And, most importantly, listen to intuition,
For it’s basically like getting divine tuition.
We know of love when we feel it inside us,
When we hold one another defiantly, and say:
“You will not divide us!”
We’re awed by thunder when its loudness strikes our soul,
Hunger gets to us when we’ve felt it as a whole;
We know how much we miss one another upon going home.

We say we’ll know it when we see it –
No; we’ll know it for sure when we feel it.
Do you feel anything?
Whit Howland May 2020
Through my writing
is how I reveal

much of who I am
but that said

I am still an enigma
and better yet

a contradiction
as you might think

I'm pensive
a man of thoughts

shall we say
but simple observation

will show that I have
nervous fingers wrapped

tightly around a pen
or furiously pecking

like a hen at a keyboard
or a touchscreen

Whit Howland © 2020
An abstract word painting.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
If bards became bums,
and ne'er-do-wells,
if, then, now
well, we may imagine,
these past seven decades,
have altered human conscience use of truth.
Servants of the sown dream,
daring to die for a good nation, as a man.

Poets in the mainstream bend believer's
imaginative use, evoke magic crocodile tears
of free wedoms, mobs, poor, co-know co-rect core
audience, participants in the experience, once.
----------
We understand the plague of liars is upon us,
as honest messengers, we acknowledge, at
our core, this is where judgement begins,
mind level core die for gnosis, tense,
fixed point you
and you
alone, as one led to learn
true, so true,
you'd dare die
to prove you knew it, right.

Audie Murphy, pre-myelinated frontal lobes.
Calm squeeze, and breathe, and hold and squeeze.
Ifery as real as any mirror neuron truth test verifies.
I could, I did, I could again,
with weapons fashioned
on a spirit pattern wedoms
take as granted, under all out
temperature and pressure,
inner peace,
outer turmoil, push,
squeeze,
as
either instance ifery, so
tuned to, some
times ring true.
Peace passeth…

If, my son,
indeed, in mind, we readily redo the deed…

If if a rare deed were a dared deed
who done it none need ask,
in our we,
it was the boy educated to believe,
there is no greater honor,
than to offer one's life,
to the nation, under God, by age six,
time and again,
I pledge, we all said, I pledge
- or vow, or dedicate, my whole being
six or seven times a week,
for twelve years, using kid faith, affirmation
and more, exposed latchkey kids,
to televised hours metadata
of heroic prewar plots,
in case of emergency,
break the forth wall…

where super heroes recruited kids
to collect box tops, and earn official Jr. G-man
decoder rings, and D-day clicker identifiers.

Know who is on our side, click.

Hey, go outside.

And make believe life is like a movie,
and you can play any role, but if you die, you do.
oops.
- it's Gaza there, sorry.
- Goliath and his brothers old turf.
Is Ra El, as re al as
a message in mindform, pretend
to
pay
attention,
think the time it takes to dip,
and swirl the drip of the pigment,
to match the mauve sky brushing breeze
snow,
soft noiseless news of old magi made to make
wishes seem as likely positive and otherwise,
in a world of up and down and round and round
on a push pull mechanical will form made up to
never
accept now as never
- bold unnullifity, as a superstition,
- spat on. Truer than any pinky swear on TV.
American Flag representative god,
Big G, general intelligence coordinator,
Wisdom's first kisser,
Yes, all the promises,
understood after knowing madness, then
Peace.
The mind, let be in me,
as a mortal man, given to comprehend,
the timing of the transitions, phase to phase,

aging, decay, ripening,
are you pouring out or gathering, vine songs ask,
have you never really been new wine drunk, fructose
high, by-pass the liver go gut to blut, bam, happy,
happy
day

un grinchable, thirst done quenchable,
seasonable tradition, done in honor to joy, our strength.

Joy to the world, the point, once made,
as a little leaven, true,
honed-most edge,
stretched to ting.

Tingaling. No, angels are not things that use wings.
Messaging is face to face in our minds eyes, as we,
a we structured on daring knowns, learned, as they say,
the hard way,

long way, or short, crooked on purpose, riverwise,
true to gravity, always,
heavy is the crown,

nay, heavy is the secret kept sacred, for power,
absolute corrupting power, to wield the sword,
one of the two, along with Longinus's spear,
authenticating the faith, defended,
to this day, only doing our duty, sir.

Rank and file, military chain of command,
inviolable but by some equal or greater might,
sharper than any two edged sword,
right,
that idea, mightiest rightness, laws of gravity and gases.

If we worry, what do we win,
if we accept an undeserved victory, what do we loose?

Peace made, in an aggressive survival mind model, shown
incessantly
for seventy years, survivable
in perfect peace.

The representative force of such a champion,
in a wedom of the meek as Moses,
we hear in our first tongue,
hush, listen ai ai ai,
sheer ifery
been as an if in
an Assisting Intelligence offers use to you,
for learning how facts can be combed,
and twisted
with common sense
to seem

obvious to any child,
though none Willie Wonka Warned,
- stories envelop all we developed
- during the days of mostly country music.
- fiddles in all the bands,
- doh see doh, and slow two steps
Dream montage…
thouroughly Willie Nelson, roughucking ride,
to the top
of the pile outside the milk barn,
keeping warm and ruminating on a steerer's role
in a beefeater world, where buffalo once roamed.
I think in Christmas as a child mode, and tell my self how I survived learning liars prosper... so I can teach my grandchildren, with no needful lie. Self governing is truely our optimum state, as a we.
Bo Tansky Feb 2019
Crepuscular creatures of comfort
Ensconced in your distant corner seat
With your paper folded and neat
Existential and conventional are you
Criss Crossing boxes of clues
Pigeonholed decoder of choose
Or not
Looking only for the clues that fit
Make it or break it or quit

I take my tea and sit
next to him
With a mischievous grin
I begin
I hope I’m not disturbing you
Which is exactly what I hope to do
Well not in a mean way
I was just hoping that I too could play
But this isn’t a game for two
I clearly haven’t a clue

Let’s approach it from another angle
Which is not exactly horizontal
Or vertical
But rather hysterically versatile
Or farcically upended and perhaps juvenile
Not the approach you should take
With one who is filling in boxes
Looking not
Not to make a mistake

Do you always finish your puzzles?
Say I
Oh yes says he
Perhaps with a spark of glee
Their numbered by degree of difficulty
You see
Oh really, say I, I didn’t know that
What number are you completing
This one is four
They change by the day.
Doesn’t everything
I think  
But, don’t say.

I play to keep my mind active
He offers.
Your talking to the horizontally damaged
Vertically challenged
I think
He continues
To keep things interesting
There are some days I only do the down boxes
Wow, I think
That’s really interesting
So god ****** interesting
That’s so interesting
I think I could choke on my tea
But excuse me
I think I have to ***.
Maybe the joke was on me.

My take away
If you want to complete the puzzle
Don’t look for someone who does the down boxes
On your up days
You’ll never be on the same page.
Mike Hauser Aug 2021
The West is best when it's caught doing less
Striving for democracy
With the sun going down long before it comes out
Giving way to the East with ease

There's massive disorder at the Southern border
Lifting the latch on the flood gates
Now has us all climbing the wall
Where I fear we're too late for sanity's sake

Why are we only now finding this out
What should have been a piece of cake
No room left on the platter for happily ever after
All from this gang that can't shoot straight

Who cut the line on our pumps in prime time
Whispering Joe stopping the flow
It doesn't take a decoder to see more "dis" to the order
Tell us something we don't already know

We might be short on gas but not on face masks
As our handlers muzzle us up
You're either right or left, jabbed or un-jabbed
Just shut up and take your shot

Why are we only now finding this out
What should have been a piece of cake
No room left on the platter for happily ever after
All from this gang that can't shoot straight
Never in my life
ConnectHook Sep 2020
Cryptic crumbs of plots obliquely stated;
Kernels of God’s truth, elucidated,
Pop, explode, and puff the expanding corn
To be served up salted: Patriot-****—
Deplorable decentralized dissent
Lamentable, to some, in its ascent.

Miners of uncertain deep-state rumors,
Fake news-media loathes these balding boomers.
Nervously, they watch Q’s paunchy patrons
And monitor with scorn suburban matrons:
Subverters of the state, in baseball caps . . .
A joke to most, a threat to some, perhaps.

Q’s troublemakers fly triumphant banners
And agitate, with humble heartland manners.
The movement grows and mutates through new phases,
Evolving in numerological mazes.
Where one decoder goes, they would go all,
Restoring us to Eden from the Fall.

And suddenly the Media has fits
Because some Q-****’s YouTube gets more hits
Than all their propaganda-shows combined.
(In spite of all their fake news had designed)
Thus Q has blown, through half-coherent screeds,
The cover for the wicked and their deeds.
please note:
Q is an EXTREMELY dangerous disco movement

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kn0xauJMHXI
Chapter 9:  Big Brothers, Big Sisters, Friendship & Mentoring

On the first day of school, every first grader was assigned a ‘big brother’ or ‘big sister’ from the 8th grade.  These were our designated guidance counselors and caretakers during the entire term of the first year.  This was something the 8th graders took seriously and a responsibility that not every 8th grader was given.  If you were lazy or irresponsible, this honor would go to someone else.  The care of these younger children was a serious matter, and you treated the 1st grader in your charge like your younger brother or younger sister at home.

You duties entailed number one, making sure that they had a safe way to get to school.  If both of their parents worked, a rarity, you would try, if it wasn’t too far, to meet them at their house and walk them to school.  Most students lived within walking distance. By today’s standards, the 30-minute walk many of us had would seem too far away.  Back then, the walk to and from school was one of the highlights of our day.

It was on these treks, back and forth, that you oftentimes experienced your greatest adventures.  You would try to find a new, and shorter, way each time and always different from the one you had taken the day before.  In reality, there was only one way home, but we dawdled and zig-zagged, and cut between different houses, so it always seemed like our navigation was different.  Every one of us fancied ourselves as Meriwether Lewis —blazing new trails for others to follow.

When walking home with one of our ‘charges,’ it was straight home by the quickest and safest route. In the morning, for safety, we tried to take the pathway that would have the least car traffic so our younger ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ would be safe and not afraid.

Once at school, we helped them put away their coats and get their desks in order.  We also asked them if they were having any trouble with their ABC’s or numbers. If they were, we would work on those things on our way to and from school.

Once ensuring their safety, our next most important job was to instill in them a knowledge of what would be happening over the next 8 years.  What better example could there be than 8th graders who were completing the journey, and in 9 short months would be graduating and heading off to the various high schools that served our area.

We reveled in the success of these younger charges, as they learned to read and eventually count as high as 100 before their first year would end. Often, they would paint us special pictures, depending on what we liked, and based on the stories we told them.  These became some of our most prized possessions, and over 50 years later, I still have mine prominently displayed.  

What we did, more than anything else with these little people, was share.  We shared our time, our laughter, and our concern for them, and were rewarded with love and admiration in return.  Yes love, the kind of love that needs no reason or explanation, one that is given freely and without asking, and a love once received that was so special that we couldn’t wait to give it back in return.

                                 It was a love we shared

We loved watching these little kids going through the same magical process that we did and hearing Sister Rita Marie tell the same stories, with the same inflection and emotion in her voice, as when she had told them to us so very long ago.  They also got to share, through the power of her instruction, the knowledge of what true value was in life.  She taught each one of them in a special way that was tailored for their own individual needs, emphasizing always that what was given away would come back 100 fold, and how to be a true friend.

We reinforced the same lessons to our young charges at recess and on the way home in the afternoon. We knew they would again hear the same things from their parents over dinner that evening (does anyone remember family dinners), and the chain of connection that we shared would only solidify and get stronger.

                        We Really Were ‘Parents In Absentia’

Like the relationship between parents and their children, the accomplishments of these little ones, and their occasional misdeeds, reflected on us.  We took great pride in their victories and we suffered with them when things didn’t go well.  They struggled, they learned, and they played together, all the while knowing they would never be alone.

               It All Worked Because We Were Willing To Share

This willingness to share didn’t happen by accident or osmosis. It was handed down, and then taught, in a system run by highly principled women who knew its intrinsic value and what it would ultimately mean for all of us.  

Whenever I meet another person who went to parochial school, or in most cases any public grammar school during the 1950’s, there is an instant kinship and connection.  After 15 minutes, we usually end up finishing each other’s sentences and marveling at how identical our upbringings were.  No matter how far removed our childhoods were geographically, it made no difference. The lessons the nuns taught were universal in their message and roadmaps to a better life.

What gets shared among young children today?  The desire for more of what they couldn’t get enough of yesterday — and will still yearn for tomorrow?  In the abject isolation of a destructive video game, or violent TV program, they withdraw further and further inside of themselves, missing much of the beauty that is only brought out by others. In the absence of cell phones, I-pads, and video games, we personally got to know each other, and in many, if not most cases, those friendships we made are still strong today. It takes another human being to bring out the best in you, and vice-versa.

              Not A Machine Or Unfeeling Scion Of Technology

The obesity of today’s younger generation is caused by inactivity and a series of lazy and uninformed choices. It is driven by a search for temporary comfort and gratification at the expense of their health and self-esteem.

I’m sure, looking back 50 years from now, we will have discovered that diseases like Obesity, Diabetes, Autism, ADHD, and Anxiety & Depression, were all at least partially caused by an inactive, poorly nourished, and degenerative lifestyle.  

We couldn’t build a bird house, assemble a scrapbook, or put together a model airplane without the glue or adhesive that held it all together.  We faced many challenges and obstacles on our journey toward 8th grade, but we encouraged each other, respected the rules, learned to laugh at ourselves, admonished the stragglers when needed, and most importantly — did it together.

The Glue We Had Was A Set Of Core Values That Proved Their Worth When Times Got Tough




Chapter 10: TV & The Messages It Held Inside

My generation, the Baby Boomers, was the first to be raised, at least in part, by television. The magical gray box held wonders beyond compare for a 5 year old fixated in its presence. You would marvel at the places it would take you, as it became your special nanny, while your parents were off tending to the chores in the ‘real world.’

Like all mediums of information, The T.V. was neither inherently good nor bad.  That depended on the intention of the programmers behind the camera. As young children, we experienced the final result, and in 1955 that result was almost always good.  The messages the T.V. brought were mainly those of accepted, time tested, family values, and our parents were comfortable and confident letting us watch by ourselves.

Back then, the message always ended with the good guy winning and the cowboy wearing the white hat saving the day.  The one’s wearing the black hats were always the villains, and implicitly we knew this when they first appeared on screen.  The good guy’s stuck together in our T.V. shows, and the bad guys were those who didn’t hold to the accepted social order (values) and wandered off in search of self-interest by breaking the law, creating havoc, and usually getting caught and then punished by shows end.  The message of these early shows reflected the shared values we had as a society and only served to reinforce what we were already being taught in school and at home.

I can remember my mother and father coming into the living room as I was watching re-runs of the ‘Our Gang Comedy’s’ from the 1930’s.  They were among my very favorites, and my parents would sit down with me and watch them too.  They would then relive all over again their childhoods during the Great Depression and tell me over and over how much that series meant to them when times were so tough.  The characters were called ‘The Little Rascals’ and had names like Alfalfa, Spanky, Porky and Buckwheat and always got into some kind of mischief.  They usually got caught, resulting in their acknowledging the errors of their ways, and learned a great lesson in the process. In many ways, they were as much a ‘morality tale’ as any told previously or since and a stark contrast to what the negative on-screen ‘entertainment’ provides for our kids today.

According to film historian Leonard Maltin, “Our Gang put boys, girls, whites, and blacks together in a group as equals.”  To be equal, we had to agree upon and share in what makes us that way.  Back then we had no problem doing that.  

                                             As equals  

‘Our Gang’ was comprised of some upper middleclass kids, but mainly poor and black kids all playing together. In playing and seeking out common goals, they set aside any petty or surface differences in their pursuit of adventure and fun.  They may have come from different economic or social circumstances, but they realized, when playing together, that that’s all that they were. The magic and the adventure of the task at hand superseded any variation in class, color, or social standing. They had much more important things to do than worry about petty differences and spent all of their time playing, planning, and conspiring as a group.

                        They Had More Important Things To Do!

The images on T.V. came to us in black and white, and the messages they carried inside were black and white too.  No confusion or embarrassment in trying to be ‘politically correct’ like today. Their messages were linked both spiritually and ethically to the ones we learned outside when the T.V. was turned off.

Shows like Lasssie, Rin Tin Tin, Gene Autry, The Lone Ranger, Howdy Doody, and then Superman, all came with a message that if the right choices were made, good would triumph over evil.  We felt better after watching these shows, and again our parents would often break away from what they were doing and watch them with us.

                            Another Thing We Shared Together!

With our decoder rings and coonskin caps, we cheered for our heroes on the 11 inch screen.  We knew that they might struggle for a while, but in the end would always win the day. They let us know that the same thing applied in our personal lives as well.  I remember going to see Gene Autry in Northeast Philadelphia when I was 8 years old. Gene Autry, along with Roy Rogers, were the biggest cowboy stars of my young generation. Gene had his horse Champion, and the Son Of Champion, with him at the outdoor demonstration.  

Gene took the time to walk the entire crowd and tried his best to talk to every child who stood outside the corral.  His questions to each kid were always the same … “Are you doing good in school?” and “Are you listening to your mom and dad?’  I left that day knowing that my on-screen hero was real, and the things that he told me, and encouraged me to do on his program, were things he believed in his heart.  I also knew he had served his country bravely during World War 2 when many stars in Hollywood hadn’t.  He represented the best of all the things, and we all wanted to be like him.

Our on-screen heroes also encouraged us to have piggy banks and to save our penny’s, explaining to us the magic of doing the right thing every day (saving) and how quickly it would add up.  They also reinforced that good things take time, and that immediate gratification was the imposter of the short-sighted. We filled our piggy banks by having paper routes and redeeming used soda bottles and didn’t ask our parents for the money, knowing that they hadn’t asked theirs.  

When that bank got so full, that it wouldn’t accept another dime, you  knew you were the wealthiest person in the world, or at least on Rockingham Road where I lived.  Your parents proudly accompanied you to the local bank where you had opened your first passbook savings account with your name on it (Mom and Dads too).  At birthdays, and holidays, you might have some relatives who wanted to ‘invest’ in your future success by making your passbook even heavier with the magic it contained.

Every kid in the 1950’s knew the story of ‘The Tortoise And The Hair,’ and understood that it was by continual effort, not just a grandstanding initial burst out of the starting blocks, that true progress was made.  It was the choice of putting aside the temptations of the present, and contributing to something larger and more important, that they taught us on T.V.  We all knew that the value in saving, and planning for the future, would override any temporal persuasion and allow us to eventually accomplish much bigger things.

                  Again, These Messages We Got From Our T.V.’s

Just think of the symbols and messages that exist on T.V. and in Video Games for kids today.  Violent action figures that continue to **** and maim, basing their success on how much damage they can do.  These violent messages reach children today at a young and impressionable age. Unless parents are conscientious and extremely vigilant, the young child is damaged severely before he or she is even given the chance to understand that the world can, and should, be a different and more uplifting place.

Occasionally, our T.V Shows would deal with tragedy and even death, but it was presented in a spirit of hope and renewal and a belief in the future.  I remember how I felt watching ‘Old Yeller’ when the dog was shot after contracting rabies while defending the boys from a wolf and had to be put down.  I was sad for days until it slowly started to sink in.  The message was that sometimes life isn’t fair, but we can be, and that doing the right thing in certain situations was the hardest thing of all.

                    And That Made It All The More Worth Doing!

Rin Tin Tin, a tan and black German Shepherd, was my personal favorite.  He was the troop mascot in a cavalry unit, and Rinty was always saving some trooper from an Indian attack or rescuing someone who was either lost or being held prisoner in the American West.  Rin Tin Tin embodied the moral message that the army and the settlers shared in common, and he proudly served to enforce these values when called upon by his master.
Rinty was both loyal and obedient, courageous and brave …traits we all tried to emulate in our everyday lives.  

He also knew the difference between right and wrong because that is what he had been taught.  We all loved and wanted to be like him and trained our own dogs to be at least partially as heroic and adventuresome as Rinty was.  As I got older, I always had German Shepherds as my personal dogs.  In real life, they share most of the qualities, and nobility of character, that Rin Tin Tin personified on screen.

In many ways, we love dogs so much because of the purity of their character.  They are totally loyal to their masters, and would in most cases die in the protection of those that they love. They often give up their own interests, in the pursuit of deferring to their masters, and want nothing more than to serve something, or someone, they see as bigger than themselves. They truly are man’s best friend!

                  And T.V. Portrayed Them Exactly That Way

Whether watching ‘Sky King,’ ‘Sgt Preston Of The Yukon,’ or ‘Daniel Boone,’ I never saw any cross-legged kid, sitting in front of the T.V., confused as to what the message was in the show he was watching. We all cheered together, laughed together, and cried together, based on the plot at hand because we all shared in the values within the message that was showing on screen.  The good guys were always good, and the bad guys always bad.  No matter how desperate the situation got in one of those shows, we always knew that good would win out in the end.  It was in this spirit, of sending a positive message of hope, that the T.V. shows during my childhood were at their best.

Imaging what a young person watching a show today, laced with *** and violence, must be thinking.  He or she can’t help but come away from that show diminished and in less control of themself than before. The only value in T.V. today is one shared by the parents.  Many parents today use television and I-pads to keep their kids occupied, and out of their ‘hair,’ while they check their emails and watch even more violent and sexually explicit programming thinking, in error, that they are spiritually immune from its negative effects.

If you have children of your own, and no parental controls on your T.V.’s, … then shame on you.  If you allow your children to watch T.V., play video games, or with I-pads, at their friend’s houses without the same controls, then I echo the sentiment.  Children grow up fast enough as it is without having the very core of their childhood ripped away from them by these violent and destructive electronic pariahs.  In many ways, T.V. — and its electronic counterparts — are the great progenitor of the downward moral spiral that we seem to be on.

My head is neither in the clouds nor do I live in a world of fantasy … in most ways I am a realist.  The realities of the world today I am all too familiar with, but I am unwilling to anoint them with unlimited power over our children in a capitulation that there is nothing we can do to fight back.

When young children, and teenagers, bring guns into our schools, with mass murders and suicides the result of their misguidance, what does this tell us about their state of mind and what they see when they look into the future?  As young children, we had heard the stories about Nagasaki and Hiroshima and the devastating results those two bombs caused.  We also knew they were dropped with a higher purpose, and in the end saved lives.  Invading Japan, which would have been the only other alternative, would have resulted in many more lives being lost on both sides.  We understood their purpose, and we also understood the difference between self-protection and preservation and wanton destruction and violence.

As horrible as it was to think about what those Japanese went through in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we understood why it had to be done.  I don’t think anyone, including the confused and misguided young person with the gun in their hands, understands why someone enters a place of learning and starts indiscriminately shooting at everyone and in all directions.  A person like that can’t share the same value for human life that we all like to believe we share.  A person like that has had their moral barometer and compass shattered inside them. They are running sociopathically amok — devoid of any empathy for others — or sense of right and wrong.

People like this don’t just happen. They are created in an environment of abandonment, moral confusion, and despair. In many ways, the Columbine shootings were done by someone feeling even more helpless than his unfortunate victims did on that sad and tragic day.  

The television of today puts kids in these violent and destructive situations on screen.  If they are left unsupervised, the lines between fantasy and reality can easily become blurred, and over time these negative images pile up inside of them until one day the pressure becomes so great that they snap, hurting not only innocent victims, but themselves.  

Our TV programs in the 1950’s were an extension of our parents, our teachers, and our religious instructors.  They were a positive reinforcement and the best example of what the medium could be.  As has been said many times … “Art is a reflection of the society of its time,” and our time (in the 1950’s) was reflected in the most positive and uplifting light by the things that we watched.

What eventually happened to TV is what happened to our society in general.  By not sharing the same value systems that created those great programs, we’ve allowed our world to become polarized and divided with our heels dug in. In our misguided defense of what is politically correct, we have allowed the perpetrators of wrong to sit equally, and sometimes as overlord, at the table with those who are trying to do the right thing.  

To make matters worse, through misguided legislators and organizations like the ACLU, we pass laws and give legal rights to the creators of this violent and perverted programming.  As the famous comic strip character ‘Pogo’ said in the 1950’s …
    
                   “We Have Met The Enemy — And He Is Us!”
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2021
i was a hermit for so long: i wasn't expecting to
be so sturdy when being thrown
against a sea of people...
     was it work? i'd consider a carpenter to be
working, i'd consider a plumber
to be working... i don't think i was working...
but i'll be paid for me... sweaty feet aching
as they curl on the way home...
i don't think i was working: i was.... loitering...
but at the same time...
my mind took to an expanse...
i was studying people, coworkers & people...
i only had a minor role in this team
of stewards & security guards...
some of my coworkers took the laissez-faire
approach... i took some initiative:
i implored two guy drinking beer on the way
to the stadium to put their cans away:
to drink up... minutes prior i saw how...
the hierarchy dynamic of uniforms changes
when two women dressed as police-officers
could enforce more power...
they forced two other drinkers of the sacred liquid
to drink up and dispose their bottles...
when i made a similar suggestion...
the guys kept on drinking, walking,
but took note of my recommendation...
one of my coworkers: a complete leech:
cigarettes, free food, free travel...
how?! asked me whether i get angry easily?
she pretended to spot me tense up?
for ****'s sake: either i am in uniform or i'm not!
i need to get that ticket, move up the hierarchy
to get away from this slouch-loiterers...

i message i sent to one of my readers makes
perfect summary of my "predicament":

hello... yeah, it was fun, a walk in the park...
i've been such a hermit for such a long time that
being thrown into a sea of people,
i almost forgot how amiable people can be
when they're working together,
i don't mean when people congregate publically,
but when you're part of a team...
everyone seems to want things to go
as smoothly as possible, esp. when dealing with
entertaining a stadium sized crowd,
i spent so much of my youth concentrating on writing...
returning to work... guess what...
i don't know what Bukowski implied
by the drudgery of work... work is rather refreshing...
although the following words are infamous:
arbeit macht frei...
there's a cruel joke outside their original
implications as they were lifted above
the gates of the inferno...
that there was only a parody of work
in concentration camps... on the contrary...
outside that ****** period of history...
work really does alleviate... the drudgery of life.

the co-owner of this outfit of security
started his life as a career military man before
the age of 18... you can spot a man pretending to be all
alpha... strong handshake... loads of stories
from his personal life... of course the women will listen,
be amazed...

i helped with one Indian girl with her clip on tie...
i helped her with zipping up her newly gained
coat for the job... she went into the toilet
i was matthew the coat-hanger...
i don't how many subjects we covered...
the military man somehow picked up an "accent"...
that i was foreign... i'm 35... minus 8 years...
oh yeah... England is so foreign to me...
we later joked about it with the English girl:
she said she was born in England
when he asked her... so you're British...
obviously i am still not British: since i haven't been
born here...
so much for being white among whites...
**** this, **** that...
oi oi... bravado through & through...
oh how he abhorred the term ****...
sure... but i turn to say it with a prefix hyphen...
****-
   i.e. -stani... i speaking the ****- lazily...
like i might term someone Afghani...
& not... Afghanistani... which is incorrect...

Shiva's third eye... the bindi...  oh but it's banter...
the superior is making insinuations...
beautiful girls in Kiev... Kiev is like London...
but you head outside of Kiev... beautiful girls...
thick as **** though...
           oh i was in Rwanda...
   i was in Thailand... close call in the Maldives...
there's only so many times you can **** your wife...
i tell my Indian companion:
i sometimes i undertook a career life in
the military... alas... i went to university...
the banter will has to pass...
we all know it...
i don't have an underlying ****** accent...
she even noted it...
i explained it to... he's a military man...
he might have been banned from Dubai etc.
a real man of the world...
because of his credentials as ex-military...
oh the posturing...
go outside of London and what sort of girls
will you find?
******* Sappho or Casandra?!

            stupid... eh... i wouldn't call country-folk:
i'd call them: enough informed...
why? i can appreciate the docile life...
i can appreciate straying from the urban
hyper-informed... isn't it solipsism?
oh yeah... you were ****** over in the past
two world wars...
at least you chose the right side...
sure... the Polacks really had a choice about
the right side... wasn't it Britain that declared
war on Germany after the invasion...
"we", ahem, "chose"... the "right side"?!

if we chose the "right side"... why did the western
powers allow us to become swallowed by
the Soviet power?!
why didn't we receive Marshall Plan funding
(Sweden did, Sweden was ******* neutral!)
Poland was rebuilt thanks to communism...
you never lived under it, so you'll never know...
****'s sake... i sometimes think of going full out
hermit once more...
two of my coworkers i could barely understand...
they spoke English... natives to Lancashire
and... **** knows where:
i couldn't ******* understand them...
it would be made easier if they were Scots!

Mr Military Boss Man was intimidated by...
i used to visit the Edinburgh comedy club from time
to time... one of the comedians would start off his
gig with the following:
you might recognise my accent... it's educated...
my accent is rather that... urban universal...
which is very much different to what locals speak...
well... perhaps not outside of Devonshire...
but you get my point...
my Indian coworker also noted it...
you have an accent?
   so i explained the education part...
not from some ivory tower position...
but if a military man is going to nag you over... crumbs...
you'll make a sly joke...

smoothly does is... thanks for the strong handshake...
Fulham vs. Derby ended a 0 - 0 score...
i managed to spot Wayne Rooney in the team coach...
two corporates gave us match programmes with
signatures of two players...

this wasn't work... i'd be working if i were a plumber...
i was loitering...
then again: i was also studying people...
i think that's sort-of-work...
how people operate... rather a curious adventure...

blurry, some faces in the crowd seemingly recognised
me... not in an approachable way...
they seemed so... stunned... almost frightened:
as if they saw me in their dreams...

there ought to be a word for this phenomenon...
i will not coin it... it's still better as an abstract...
a whisper of Marcus Aurelius' return to the republic
of Rome...
the term reads:
i'm not famous...
  but people recognise you...
as if they saw you in their dreams...
& there you are, all flesh & blood...
standing before them...
how strangely their faces read: what, i'm not supposed
to be here?!
were you expecting someone else?

my Indian companion was apprehensive about
curating the Bishop's Park...
i implored her: look... the park is most beautiful
come the night... no one is here!
i like that look on people's faces...
you begin to wonder: have we met in your dreams?

they look absolutely stunned... since they recognise
you... not from t.v., not from adverts...
there are so little of them but enough to allow
you to spot this... jolt in the fabric of reality:
we must met in the realm of dreams...
quarter-petrified quarter-curious...
quarter-stone based.. an eighth-fire based...
an eighth-water based...
          i'm investing in a future i will not be part
of... may i be long gone from these abodes
before i might be finally recognised:
and even then, i hope i will not be...
now that i've seen how my coworkers react
to fame... i said to the leech:
i don't get it... the cult of celebrity... sure...
it's amazing what these people do...
but in doing... they're no more being than i'm being...
i can truly appreciate David Beckham
bending it like... said... at a free-kick...
but David Beckham per se? really?
do i have to? that same ****** conundrum of:
you must appreciate the work
of an artist: but not the artist himself...

i can play all nice... but then i'll suddenly visit
a brothel: when prompted by grooming one
of my cats.... when she raises her ****...
then again... what i get up to in a brothel is my business....
hardly any ****** or leather invoked...
wholesome *******, if wholesome ******* bothers you...
i know... the only game left to play in the realm
of adulthood... the dynamics of ***...
it's hardly: hide & seek...
*** is ugly when outside the act itself it has
to take these pseudo-political inferences...

i know today i was merely a pawn... but was i?
on paper... sure...
i have ambitions elsewhere,
income on the sly... i'll do x, y, & z...
but i'll also do a, b & c...
          work... **** me: if this is "work" then all
life's a joke...
the Indian gall was saying... to be a barrister you
need to be an old white male...
i refrained... from a more concrete answer....
old white males... like... beached whales?
like dolphin is the "other" white meat?
did she know how genealogical ambition works?
your father was X... your grandfather was X...
you're going to be also, X...
i said: as long as the system of meritocracy works...
you can't avoid certain hurdles...
life is bound to throw you set-backs...

forget about race... it works the same in India
with the caste system...
i'm pretty content with not...
earning too much... that's synonymous with
not having to spend more than is necessary...
you earn more = you spend more...
i don't need to earn in order to explore excesses
of expenditure...
enough: is enough...
i don't need to peacock around this *******
palace of the urban jungle...
i spotted one femme fatale with a Spanish type...
what was he talking about?
video games... look at her...
what a bombshell... oh well... not my partake...

i don't want to know what people want...
i want to know what people deserve,
what must be required of people...
fear, absolvement from duty...
             faking honesty...
   i want to peer at this frothing tide when
they congregate... i don't want to see the individual...
i want to see the entire: whole, ugly... parody of man!

yes, that's what i want to see...
not the uniqueness of man, per se or via a studied example...
i want to compound man into a whole:
put a decoder on his remarks, actions, wholeness...
to later apply a cipher to him...
confuse him a little.... entertain him a while...

that's what i want...
how i yearn to fathom this little corner of a non-existent world...
non-existent in that it's psychic...
in the flow of the crowd i sort of imagined myself
famous... i was merely a pawn...
not that i was famous in "real life": rather...
the ****** expression read:
i saw you in my dreams!

i can count 5 fingers on my hand...
yeah... the same number i arrived at...
that's enough...

in mein garten, kommen sie: die nacht:
ich blühen!
                                   ich leben!
ich bin! mich selber!
                    alles ist güt!
alles: ist... meisten erschreckend! ja...

oh high praise for me... spotting a Serbian flag, when
asked...
THE IDIOT

“Isn’t that…”
I asked myself
“Dostoevsky?”

he and I
flâneuring
about Haymarket

“Hey Dosty
my main man
is that really you?”

and yeah
it really was
the great man himself

it was early July
1862-ish so
he was startled

to be hailed
by a voice from
a century not his own

and also that
he could understand me
and I he

I told him
I had my time machine
parked just around the corner

that it had a language decoder
that came with it
as an extra feature

“I didn’t know you
were in London?”
said he was just passing through

“Hey man…just been reading
your ‘Idiot’ as it happens
and no you wouldn’t know it

‘cos you haven’t
written it
as yet!”

asked him to come
for a drink in The Marquis
might even bump into Charlie

“You mean… Dickens?”
“Huh huh…” I said
“…he sometimes hangs out there!”

said I’d teach him
How to drink a Guinness
In 15 seconds flat

that convinced him
but of all the rotten luck
Charlie never turned up

probably out
on one of his
endless midnight walks

he said he had to
go see his friend
Herzen

“Hear now
permit it
do not restrain me!”

I let him go
making my own excuses
parking is up on my time machine

“English girls
are something else!”
he smirked

“Yeah…” I answered
“…married one
myself!”

“I have me
a keepsake
of their faces.”

then he vanished
into the fog
a real pea-souper

should have asked him
to sign my copy of
“Crime and Punishment.”

but of course
he hadn’t wrote
that one yet either

“Ahh hell!” I stuttered
”My time machine’s
got a parking ticket!”  

*

“I almost do not exist now and I know it; God knows what lives in me in place of me.”

― Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Idiot

— The End —